


Caught in the Crossfire

by Bebedora



Series: Caught in the Crossfire [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action, Critical injuries, Drama, Hurt!Jim, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, eventual slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 74,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebedora/pseuds/Bebedora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk always finds himself caught in the crossfire, and McCoy constantly finds himself trying to pick up the pieces.  Hurt!Jim, set in between Reboot and ID.  COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter One ****

****

****

_Captain’s Log, Stardate 2258.206:  We are currently en route to the planet Xentia.  The Xentian government has expressed interest in joining the Federation and we have been dispatched per Admiral Pike on a goodwill mission.  Our objective is to observe and ‘make friends’ with the people, as well as report back to Starfleet with our findings.  Starfleet has had limited contact with the Xentians, but Mister Spock has assured me that the inhabitants are peaceful and mean us no harm.  Looks like a wonderful addition to the Federation.  Let’s hope everything goes smoothly.  End log._

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

“Come on, Bones.  It’ll be fun!”

Leonard McCoy rolled his eyes.  _Yeah sure, fun.  Last time you said that we ended up covered in some goddamn spores that turned our skin blue for weeks._

“You’re always bitching about how stuffy Sick Bay is.  This is your chance to get some fresh air.”  The Captain grinned from ear to ear.  He picked up a petri dish from McCoy’s countertop and began to toss it back and forth in his hands.

McCoy snatched it out of the air mid-arc and replaced it with an irritated grunt.  “Oh yeah, Jim?  And what if that air’s full of pollen that you’re allergic to?  Or the water has some damned parasite in it that turns our intestines into mush?  What if…”

Jim huffed.  “Jesus, Bones!  Lighten up!  Spock’s already gone over the reports from Starfleet and scanned the surface. There’s nothing that seems out of the ordinary, and the natives are peaceful.”  His eyes gleamed with mischief.  “Besides, you could use some sun.  You’re looking pasty.”

McCoy shook his head and relented.  “I swear to God, Jim, this had better be a routine away mission.  If you so much as sneeze, I’m never letting you off this ship again.  We’ve had too many close calls lately.”  The concern was evident in his tone.

Kirk clapped McCoy on the back with gusto.  “See?  I knew you’d see it my way.”  He flashed a wry grin.  “Besides, the last time wasn’t that bad of a close call.  Meet us in Transporter Room Three in four hours.”  He sauntered out of McCoy’s office, winking at a female nurse as he left.

Bones couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, watching his friend leave.  “Wasn’t that bad?  _Last time_ I had to re-arrange half of your organs with my bare hands, you damn fool.”  He moved out into the main bay and prepared his custom Med Kit for Jim.

Just in case.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

“So, Spock, tell me more about these Xentians.”  Kirk and his First Officer sat in the officer’s mess, enjoying a meal before they left the ship. 

“Certainly, Captain.  There are approximately seven-hundred-and-ninety-five million Xentians living on the planet, with over three-quarters residing on the massive main continent, most of those in the largest city.  They are a reptilian-type race, bipedal.  Warp capabilities were achieved within the last ten to fifteen years, making contact with Starfleet possible.  Their medical technologies are somewhat limited.   Admiral Pike has reminded us that sharing our technology with them would be in defiance of the Prime Directive. They seem to be a peaceful race, with no known wars being fought on their planet in the last century.  Education appears to be a very important element in their culture, as shown by the large number of schools and libraries present in the capital city.  Their language is complex, but they have adapted and learned Standard quite efficiently.  The religious beliefs of the Xentians are deeply rooted in creation mythology, with the main focus concentrating on the legend of two Goddesses who fought each other on a sacred mountain before merging into one deity.  The…”

Kirk held up a hand – still clutching a half-eaten cheeseburger – to halt Spock’s monologue. “Okay, Spock.  Thanks for the history lesson.  That’s enough for me.”

The Vulcan quirked an eyebrow.  “I was not finished with the briefing, Captain.  It would be wise to learn as much as you can about the Xentians before we beam down.” 

Kirk flicked his wrist at him before finishing the rest of his burger.  “Not necessary, Spock.  If I blank on something, I know you’ll be there to back me up.” 

Spock stared at Kirk for a moment.  “Very well, Captain.  I would also remind you that Doctor McCoy has reprimanded you on several occasions for eating such sodium-laden and fat-rich foods.  It would be sensible to take his advice as excessive consumption of such items can lead to heart disease, high chol…”

“Spock!  Geez, way to ruin a guy’s lunch.  You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”

Another raised eyebrow.  “If by ‘rat you out’ you are referring to bringing the cheeseburger to Doctor McCoy’s attention, may I remind you that as First Officer it is my duty to look after your well-being.  That being said, I also understand that the doctor would be most displeased to learn that you are not heeding his advice and would more than likely raise his voice and use an expletive accompanying your name.  As I do not wish to cause you any emotional discomfort nor do I feel the need for you to incur McCoy’s wrath, I shall simply suggest that you refrain from consuming such foods in excess.  I will not, as you say, ‘rat you out’, Captain.”

“Gee, thanks, Spock.”

“You are more than welcome, Jim.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Kirk’s door chimed.

“Come in, Bones.”

The door slid open, producing an obviously annoyed McCoy.  “How the hell did you know it was me?”

Jim smirked.  “Because you were due to come and try and weasel your way out of going down to the planet any time now.”  He motioned for McCoy to sit on the couch next to him.  “Lemme have it, Bones.  What’s your excuse this time?”

McCoy didn’t sit, electing to instead stand with arms crossed as he glared at his Captain.  “Now don’t you try and pin this all on me.  Believe it or not, I came on your behalf.  Listen Jim, you’ve been running yourself ragged lately.  You’re not even four weeks out from major surgery.  Have you forgotten the hell you put me through after the last away mission gone bad?  I actually held your liver in my hands.”  McCoy shook his head in disbelief.   “Speaking more as a friend than a physician…”

 “I know, I know.  ‘You should let Spock handle this and get some rest.’”  He stood and stared out at the black expanse of space.  “Look out there.  This is what I live for, Bones.  You know that.  I just can’t get enough.  Meeting new species, going to exotic locations—this is what Starfleet’s all about.  I know it sounds weird, but I don’t want to miss anything.”  He turned and offered McCoy a boyish grin.

McCoy sighed and pursed his lips.  “I can tell that I’m not going to win this damn fight.  Just promise me you’ll be careful.  I mean it when I say that I’m getting sick of having to piece you back together every other month.  You’re not invincible.”

Jim shot McCoy a wry smile.  “Sure I am, Bones.  As long as I have you.”  He turned around again to look out at the stars flying by.  “Now, are you coming with me or not?”

McCoy blew out a sharp breath.  “Someone’s gotta be there to inevitably save your ass.  Might as well be me.  You better not make me stab you with a hypo, though.  Got it?”  

Jim laughed, his blue eyes sparkling in the low light of the cabin.  “I’ll try to avoid it.  You’re downright sadistic with those things.”


	2. Caught in the Crossfire: Chapter Two

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Two

“Captain, the city is straight ahead, eight-hundred and fifty-four-point-five meters.  Our destination is the large domed structure on the horizon.  It is their equivalent of what we could call a ‘capital building.’ ”

Jim Kirk shielded his eyes with his hand from the glaring sunlight.  A large, stone building loomed in the distance, surrounded by hundreds of smaller buildings and dwellings.  Colorful banners floated on the breeze from the tops of many of the structures, and alien children played in the streets.

 “Thanks, Spock.”  He fanned himself with his palm.  “Damn, it’s hot here.”   

“Tricorder readings indicate the ambient temperature to be thirty-three-point-three degrees Celsius.  Well within the comfort range for humans, Captain.”

Kirk wiped the beads of sweat from his neck.  “Standard, please Spock.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow.  “Ninety-two degrees, Captain.”

A gruff response came from the back of the group.  “Just like Georgia.” 

Kirk turned to look at McCoy.  “Then you should feel right at home, Bones.  And you didn’t even want to come…”  He flashed him a child-like grin.

McCoy pursed his lips.  “I’ll feel _right at home_ when I can get back to my Sick Bay and away from what I’m sure is hundreds, if not thousands of emergency situations you will undoubtedly find to get yourself into.” 

The security ensign that had been assigned to the landing party chuckled.

“Don’t be such a downer, Bones!  Have some fun once and a while!”  Kirk began walking, the rest of the party following right on his heels. 

“Phaser stowed, alright Lieutenant Fox?  We don’t want to rile anyone up.”  The group started down the well-worn path towards the city center.  “Spock, tell me again why Scotty couldn’t materialize us any closer?”

The Vulcan walked beside his Captain.  “Mister Scott felt the magnetic interference coming from the native stonework of the buildings, although minor, posed a risk to the transport process.  He most logically suggested a landing zone well away from any unwanted hindrance.”

Kirk swept his sleeve across his brow.  “I think he’s trying to get back at me for the little ‘incident’ in Engineering last week.  It’s not like I knew the console would spark if I spilled coffee on it!”

“Captain, the likelihood of the console malfunctioning as a result of liquid entering the inner computer systems was ninety-eight percent.  You should have been aware of those facts as a result of required Engineering courses at the Academy.  Therefore, it would stand to reason that you, in fact, did know…”

Kirk held up his hand.  “Thanks, Spock.  That’ll be all.” 

They continued walking, encountering more inhabitants as they moved closer to the city.  For the most part the aliens were friendly, acknowledging the party with nods of the head or small waves.  They passed by several roaming vendors with carts piled high with various local foods and wares.  Jim stopped the group briefly to look at some strange-looking fruits on a stand.  He reached out to grab one, only to be thwarted by McCoy, who knocked it out of his fingers.

“Don’t even think about it, Jim.  We don’t know how your damned immune system will react to it.  Hands off.”

Kirk scowled at his CMO.  “It’s not like I’m going to eat it, Bones!  I just wanted a little peek.  I mean, look at it!  It’s pink!”  He reached for it again.

“Dammit, Jim!  What if it has some weird chemical coating that you’re stupid skin reacts to?”  He took Jim’s hand in his own and inspected his fingertips.  “No reaction, that’s good.  Just don’t touch anything else until I can get more scans of the local flora, alright?”

 A Xentian child approached the group and walked close to them for a few meters, peering up at the men from underneath a hood.  A faint green glow emanated from beneath the robe it was wearing.  The child tugged at the Captain’s pants and extended a small clawed hand upwards.  Kirk smiled and took the tiny hand in his own.   They walked for a few feet before an adult shooed the youngster away with a sharp-toothed smile and bow. 

“Cute kid, eh Spock?”  Kirk chuckled as the child scurried away, waving a scaly hand in the air. 

“I do not have an opinion either way as to the aesthetic appearance of the species.  However, I do find their apparent bio-luminescence fascinating.”  Spock studied his Tricorder.  “It appears that the Xentians have the capability to cause their skin to glow.  The information provided by Starfleet was sparse and very unclear about the phenomenon.  I am unsure what the cause—or significance—is.  Further observation is required to make an accurate hypothesis.”

“Well, you go right ahead, Spock.  After all, you’re the Science Officer.”  Kirk wiped the sweat from his brow.  “They seem friendly enough, though.  I like it here.  I don’t know what you were so worried about, Bones.”

McCoy grunted as he walked behind Kirk.  “We’ve only been here ten minutes.  Ask me again in an hour and I’ll tell you if I’m still pissed you made me come down here with you.”

It wasn’t until they passed what could only be described as a “stronghold” did any of them begin to feel any sort of ill feelings towards the area or the residents.  The area was large and fenced in, surrounded by barbed wire and guard animals that jumped and clawed at the fencing when anyone got too close.  Hooded figures lumbered back and forth on ramparts surrounding the fortress, peering down at the landing party.  Where the child they had encountered glowed green, these individuals produced a sinister red light, visible even from under the heavy armor and robes they wore. 

The locals seemed to fear the place and its inhabitants, as they all used the other side of the street to do their business or to walk.  No one even looked in the direction of the compound. 

This did not go unnoticed by the doctor.  “Jim told me that you said this place is safe,” he said to Spock in a hushed tone.

“To the best of our knowledge, it is, Doctor.  All previous encounters with this species indicate as much.”

McCoy clenched his fingers around his Med Kit.  “Then why do the locals seem to be afraid of that place?”  He motioned to the fortress.  “And those bastards are glowing red.  What do you have to say about that?”

Never turning around to face the doctor, Spock replied, “The surface scans indicated that there was no environmental danger, Doctor.  All the communications with the inhabitants showed that they are indeed a peaceful race.  The Federation has had minimal contact with them in the past, but never with any nefarious results. As for the bio-luminescence, further investigation is needed before I can make a determination as to whether or not the differentiation in hue poses a threat.  It is logical to assume that our visit here will be without incident.”

McCoy huffed angrily.  “Then why do I get the feeling that we’re walking into something bad?”

“I do not know, Doctor.  The complexities of the human psyche are admittedly perplexing to me.”  He studied the PADD in his hands.  “I suggest that we continue our observations and if danger should arise, we will take the necessary precautions to ensure not only the safety of Captain Kirk but ourselves as well.  We do not want to risk future diplomatic ties by acting on impulse unnecessarily.”

“That still doesn’t make me feel any better.  I’d prefer it if our safety was ensured back on the Enterprise.”

 “Noted, Doctor.” 

McCoy scowled and sidled up next to Jim.  “Those glowing sons of bitches don’t bother you?”

Jim never stopped walking, turning his head to smile at McCoy.  “Bones, you’re always fearing the worst.  Maybe they glow like that because they’re sick, or something.  Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

“In that case, if they’re sick I say we get the hell out of here.  We don’t need to infect ourselves and the whole damned ship with some alien virus.” 

Kirk placed a hand on McCoy’s shoulder as they walked. “Don’t worry Bones.  Didn’t I say everything would be okay?”

McCoy pursed his lips.  “You always say that.  You’re usually wrong.”

Kirk offered a huge grin.  “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer with all this worrying.  Trust me, alright?”

McCoy brushed Kirk’s hand off his shoulder, mumbling under his breath.  “Yeah, sure.  ‘Trust me’, he says.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Starfleet?  Here?”  The large Xentian warrior hissed angrily.  His chain mail clinked as he walked around the room.  “Where were they headed?”

The soldier bowed his head, averting his eyes.  “To the city, Master Ka’al.  Three human males and a Vulcan.”

Ka’al paced around his chamber.  “The city, eh?  There’s no telling what that coward Luuk-ti will tell them.  Did they seem interested in our outcropping?”

“No, sir.  A few brief glances, they didn’t even stop.”

Ka’al rubbed a hand over the line of horns emanating from the back of his neck.  “Any idea if they were important men?”

“From what we know about Starfleet, their uniform colors indicate that one was security, two were science or medical and...”

Ka’al approached the young soldier, his clawed toes clicking against the stone floor.  His luminescent skin glowed a deep crimson.  “And?”

“The last officer was wearing gold, sir.  It denotes Command.”

The leader’s eyes lit up.  “Command?  The Captain, perhaps?”

“We do not know, sir.”

Ka’al smirked, exposing his sharp teeth.  “Well, whoever they are, they’re going to be very sorry they picked this day to come to our planet.”  He went to the window and stared towards the city center.

“Tonight not only will Xentian blood be spilled…but Federation blood as well.”


	3. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Three

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Three

_Captain’s Log, Stardate 2258.206:  We have arrived on the planet Xentia and are making our way to the capital city now.  It definitely is a beautiful planet, very lush and filled with the most incredible flowers and foliage I think I have ever seen.  The only downside is it’s hotter than a moth…pardon that.  The temperature is a bit too hot for my liking, but Doctor McCoy seems to be enjoying it.  The inhabitants seem peaceful and friendly for the most part; however we did encounter a fortified structure with some rough-looking characters inside.  We plan to ask the Shaman designated to meet us about the outcropping.  Mister Spock is very interested in the Xentians’ bio-luminescence, and the cultural and physiological significance to their people.  Almost everyone we have encountered has a green glow, and Spock figures that it’s a sign of peace or happiness.  The aliens in the fortress, however, seemed to glow red.  This has Doctor McCoy worried for our safety, and has been noted by both myself and Mister Spock. We plan on continuing towards the city to meet with the Shaman, where we will inquire about the stronghold, among other things.  If I feel that we are in immediate danger at any time, we will take the necessary steps to return safely to the Enterprise.  Right now, though, I’m feeling pretty good about this whole trip.  I’m looking forward to meeting with more of the alien race and hopefully making another ally for the Federation.  Oh, and the cutest little kid tagged along with us for few minutes.  Even held my hand.  Something tells me that the Xentians are going to be more than welcoming to us in the future.  Kirk out._

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

“Welcome to Xentia, Captain Kirk.”  The Shaman’s reptilian voice hissed, unthreateningly.  He was tall and lanky.  Several small horns jutted out from his forehead, and continued down his spine.  The Shaman’s scaled skin glittered with an iridescence that seemed to glow a soft green when he spoke.  “I am Shaman Luuk-ti.  I am the spiritual leader of our people.  It is also my duty to welcome new visitors into our land.”  He extended a clawed hand.

Kirk shook the Shaman’s hand firmly.  “Thank you for inviting us.  I can say without a doubt that your planet is the most beautiful I have ever seen. We look forward to learning more about your people and way of life.  The Federation is hopeful that we can make strides in our diplomatic talks and grant you entrance in no time.”  Kirk smiled warmly.

“That would be most advantageous for both parties. Our people have much to offer in the way of cultural and spiritual learning.  We want nothing more than to share our beliefs and knowledge with the numerous inhabitants of this galaxy and beyond.”  His green glow brightened.  “And of course, to learn as much as we can about any and all places and races we should encounter.  Being a member of the Federation would help tremendously in those endeavors, as well as ensure our safety as we travel the stars.”

Kirk smiled.  “Shaman Luuk-ti, this building is breathtaking.”    He craned his neck upwards towards the domed ceiling, speckled with a stained glass mosaic.  “That’s so abstract.  Does it hold any significance?”

Luuk-ti smiled again.  “The disordered nature of the dome’s artwork is meant to represent the chaos in early time, before the two Goddesses, Taal-nok and Kali’na fought and merged.  Before they became one, everything was frenzied and without focus.  They fought a great battle on top of Mount Qui’trel and wound up engulfing one another to create our race.”  The Shaman gazed towards the ceiling for a long moment before settling his eyes on Kirk once again.  “From that disorder came life, and with it our great culture.  I’m sure our scholars would love to regale you with creation tales for hours, Captain Kirk.”

“I think there will be plenty of time for Federation researchers to throw one back with your teachers in the future.”

The Shaman gave Kirk a puzzled look.  “’Throw one back?’  Forgive me, Captain.  I am still learning the nuances of Standard speech.”

 “A slang term from Earth, Shaman,” Spock interjected.  “To ‘throw one back’ refers to sharing alcoholic beverages over conversation.  I believe the Captain was trying to convey the idea that our researchers would be most pleased to share knowledge with your scholars.” 

“Ah, I see!  I am quite certain that our scholars would agree to that.”  He smiled, his teeth gleaming.  “Drinking just happens to be a favorite past time of our people.  Perhaps later you can sample a few of our many different brews.”

“Now that’s something I would be very excited to participate in.”  Kirk offered the Shaman a sly grin.

Spock’s Tricorder chimed, indicating that the scan he had been conducting had completed.  “Fascinating.”  Spock cocked his head to the side as he studied the device, then in the direction of the Shaman.

Luuk-ti beamed, exposing three rows of razor-sharp teeth.  “I assume you are referring to our bio-luminescence?” 

“My scan indicates that the cells in your skin work in tandem with your brain to produce light.  It is most intriguing.  In our travels we have never encountered such a phenomenon.  I am most curious as to why your physiology produces such an occurrence. Forgive me if I have offended you.” 

The Shaman bowed slightly.  “Worry not.  There is no offence taken.  Our bodies react in kind to different emotions.  I glow green because I am genuinely pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister…”

Kirk chimed in.  “Spock.  He’s my second in command as well as Chief Science Officer.”

The Shaman held his out his hand.  “I will gladly answer any questions you might have about our unique feature, Mister Spock.  You are a Vulcan, no?”

Spock nodded as he shook the Shaman’s hand.  “I am.  May I enquire as to the significance of the phenomenon?  You mentioned that you are glowing green as a response to pleasure.  During our approach to the city, we encountered several individuals inside a fortified stronghold who gave off a red light.  If I were to postulate a hypothesis, I would be inclined to believe that they were not pleased, either by our arrival or other extenuating circumstances.”

Luuk-ti’s head and shoulders drooped, the once bright green light of his skin turning a pale yellow.  “Ah, it is unfortunate that you had to see them.  I had hoped they would stay hidden like the cowardly animals that they are.  And  you are correct, they give off a red light because they are angry. ”

McCoy leaned in closer to Kirk and whispered under his breath.  “See Jim?  I told you those guys were bad news.”

Kirk shushed him quietly and gave him a quick stern glance out of the corner of his eyes.  “Shaman Luuk-ti, I…”  Kirk hesitated, unwilling to offend with his next statement.  “…please forgive me if I sound suspicious, but should we be worried about that group?”

The Shaman shook his head. “Captain Kirk, I can assure you that they are nothing more than a collection of harmless thugs.”  He licked his thin lips with a long reptilian tongue.  “They are known as the Graz’ Kuul-ai.  In our language it means ‘show no mercy.’  Believe me when I tell you that they chose the name for fear mongering, not because of literal meaning.”

Kirk scowled and crossed his arms over his chest.  “They seemed to have quite the fortress for guys who are harmless, Shaman.”

The Shaman sighed, his breath hissing.  “True, Captain.  The Graz’ Kuul-ai don’t want any outside contact with other races, the Federation included.  They fear that we will be colonized and enslaved. They choose to hole themselves up in their stronghold, should the time arise when we would be overtaken.  I promise you that they would never do anything violent in nature.  They are, as you would say in Standard, ‘all talk’.”

“Shaman, I can honestly speak on behalf of the United Federation of Planets when I say that there will never be an attempt to colonize your people.  That’s not what the Federation is about.  We yearn to learn all we can about other races, species, cultures and planets.  There has never been—and never will be—any chance of hostility between members.”

Luuk-ti smiled.  “I am very relieved to hear that, Captain Kirk.  Forgive me for not mentioning their presence up front.  It was wrong of me to keep their existence from you.  You have the right to know about all aspects of our people and politics—even if some are unpleasant.”  He bowed his head and shoulders slightly, peering up at Kirk.  “I hope this does not affect the Federation’s decision regarding our entry into the group.  Perhaps, if we were allowed to join, your scholars would be able to advise us on how to better deal with the Graz’ Kuul-ai.”

“Our goal is to work for peace throughout the galaxy.”  Kirk smiled broadly.  “You’ll get the help you need.”

Luuk-ti clasped his hands tightly at his waist.  “Thank you for your understanding, Captain.  Know that our people want nothing more than to join the Federation with peaceful intentions.”

“Glad to hear that, Shaman.”

Luuk-ti extended his hand towards a doorway.  “If you gentleman will follow me, we have a selection of various delicacies waiting for you to sample in one of the adjacent rooms.  There, you can relax while I make the preparations for the grand tour of the city.  Presuming you would like to go?”

Kirk smiled.  “We would be honored to see your city.” 

Both Spock and McCoy visibly stiffened at the Captain’s acceptance of the invitation.

The Shaman motioned for them to follow and started towards the door.  They entered a small dining room where an enormous spread of fruits, vegetables and other foodstuffs had been laid out on an ornate crystal table.  “Please enjoy our favorite foods, Captain, gentlemen.  I will leave you to rest and converse for a moment while I finalize our next plans.”

“Thank you, Shaman.  This is an incredible offering you’ve set up for us.  You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”  Kirk surveyed the array of delicacies. 

“It was no trouble whatsoever, Captain Kirk.  Only the best for our guests.”  The Shaman bowed once more before taking his leave, closing the door behind him.

McCoy’s fit started seconds later.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Jim, are you out of your damn mind?  We need to get off this planet now!”  McCoy was furious. 

Kirk rolled his eyes and grabbed for a slice of delicate pastry.  McCoy scanned it quickly for allergens, then reluctantly allowed Jim to eat. 

“Calm down, Bones.  He assured us that those guys are harmless.”

“And you’re going to take his word for it?”

Kirk savored his cake.  “Of course.  Why wouldn’t I?  He knows his people better than we do.  If he says they’re not a threat, we should believe him.”

Spock interjected.  “Doctor McCoy does have a point, Captain.  We should return to the Enterprise.  Our original reconnaissance did not indicate the existence of the Graz’ Kuul-ai.  The mission parameters have changed in light of this new information.  You would be safer on the ship until we can determine the threat level they pose.”

Kirk scoffed and shoved another piece of cake into his mouth. 

 “While I, too, believe that the Shaman has given us no reason to doubt his claims,” Spock continued, “staying planet side may pose a threat to our safety, should the antagonists decide to become something other than harmless.  ”

Jim wiped his mouth on a napkin and set down his plate.  He looked Spock directly in the eyes.  “I understand your concern—“He turned to McCoy and raised his eyebrows.  “—both of you.  But our mission here is to make better contact with the Xentians, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do, regardless of threat.”

McCoy opened his mouth to speak, but Kirk cut him off.

“If I went back to the ship, the Xentians might see that as offensive and break off talks forever.  We’re here to make friends, not enemies.”

McCoy threw his hands in the air with a huff and walked away, shaking his head.

“Bones!”  Kirk moved to go after the annoyed doctor. 

Spock stopped him.  “Captain, I can see that you are firmly set in your desire to stay on the planet.  With the new information, I suggest that we at least call for extra security for our away team.  It would be prudent to be prepared to protect ourselves should the need arise.”

Kirk shook his head while reaching for a spotted fruit.  He dropped it when McCoy loudly cleared his throat.  He shot the doctor a quick wink.  McCoy scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Spock, if we called in security they would think we were afraid of something.  We don’t want to send the wrong message to the locals, like we’re scared of their planet or people.  Besides, it might give the thugs the impression that we’re looking for a fight.”

Spock thought for a moment.  “Agreed, Captain.  It is logical to assume that any show of force by us may result in the natives becoming defensive.  Allow me to suggest that we have a shuttle on standby, should the need arise for a quick extraction and the likelihood that we will be out of transporter range due to the magnetic interference.”

Kirk pushed a fork around on the table while he quickly thought.  “Alright, Spock.  You win.  Shuttle it is.”  He smiled boyishly.

“I was not aware we were involved in a game, Captain.”

Kirk rolled his eyes.  “Just contact the Enterprise, will ya?  I gotta go deal with Bones.”  He grabbed a small plate and filled it with slices of fruit.

Spock nodded and brought out his communicator.  “Certainly, Captain.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Yes, Master Ka’al, I am sure of it.”

The building maintenance worker was huddled in a small janitor’s closet, whispering into his mobile device. 

“He is the Captain of their ship, I heard Luuk-ti refer to him as such several times.”  He waited for his leader to speak before answering.

“His name is James Kirk.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

“Brought you a peace offering.”  Kirk extended the plate in his hand to his seated friend.

McCoy snorted and looked away.  Jim wiggled the plate in the air.  McCoy exhaled sharply through his nose and snatched the dish from Kirk’s hand.  The Captain took a seat next to him.

“Don’t think by bribing me with food you’ll make me feel any better about the situation.”  McCoy scanned the plate quickly with his Tricorder, the device indicating it was safe for Jim to also sample.

Kirk sighed and looked down at his feet.  “Look, Bones, I know I make you mad sometimes.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Kirk took a small berry from the plate and popped it into his mouth.  “But you have to believe me when I say that this mission is important.  The Xentians can be a great ally.  Their culture is incredible.  Think of all the Federation could learn from them and vice versa.”

McCoy shook his head.  “I know it’s important, Jim.  But so is your safety.  I just have a bad feeling about this.  Makes me nervous.”

Kirk chuckled.  “You’re always nervous, Bones.”

“Stop kidding around.  It’s my job as your CMO to protect you and your well-being and…”  He hesitated.  “…it’s my job as friend to tell you when you’re taking an unnecessary risk.  Now is one of those times.  Let someone else be the liaison for once.  Your being safe is top on my priority list, and not just because I’m your doctor.”

Kirk smiled gently.  “Bones, you know as well as I do that our mission out here is to show goodwill on behalf of the Federation.  We can’t do that if I run away every time we get a little spooked.”  He thought for a long moment.  “Look, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little anxious too.  But we can’t let a little case of nerves get in the way of forging a potential alliance for the Federation.  As the Captain it’s my duty to meet with leaders and dignitaries.  Let’s just take the tour, stick around for a little while and then we can go back to the ship, alright?  I’ll buy you a beer…”  His eyes twinkled along with the sing-song of his voice.

McCoy narrowed his eyes at Kirk.  “You sure can make a smart argument when you put your mind to it, you know that?”

Kirk smiled devilishly.  “Damn right, Bones.”  He patted the doctor on the thigh before standing and straightening his uniform top.  “Everything’s going to be fine.  You’ll see.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Captain Kirk, I take it you and your men enjoyed the selection we provided for you?”  The Shaman smiled hopefully.

Kirk patted his stomach.  “It was wonderful.  I may have to smuggle some of it back aboard the Enterprise.”

Luuk-ti laughed.  “No need to smuggle, Captain. We would be more than happy to give you anything you wish to take back with you.”  He approached the men, McCoy standing when he got closer.  “Forgive me, but I do not believe we have been properly introduced.”  He extended his hand to the doctor.

“Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer.  Pleased to meet you.”  McCoy shook the Shaman’s hand firmly.  “It seems our Captain forgot his manners.”

Kirk shrugged his shoulders.  “Oops.  Sorry about that, Bones.”  He turned his attention to the Shaman.  “Forgive me for not introducing you two sooner.  We were just so excited to be here.”

Luuk-ti bowed.  “Nothing to be bothered with, Captain.  It is an honor to meet you, Doctor.”  He pulled a small glowing tablet out of his robes.  “This is the itinerary of our tour route.  I thought it might make you at ease knowing where we would be headed.  I can assure you we will not be travelling anywhere near the Graz’ Kuul-ai.”

Kirk motioned to Spock to take the PADD.  “Thank you, Shaman.  Mister Spock always likes a good schedule, isn’t that right?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at the Captain.

“Now then, gentlemen.  Is there anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable?  We would be honored if you would spend the night in our fair city.  We have already prepared accommodations for you.”

McCoy inhaled sharply and stiffened his posture.  Kirk gave him a reassuring glance.  “Thank you for the generous invitation, Shaman.  Unfortunately, we have to decline.  We didn’t pack our pajamas.”  Kirk smiled broadly.

Luuk-ti laughed out loud.  “Quite the reason to go back to your ship, Captain.  Perhaps next time then.”  He motioned to the door.  “We hope you will at least stay for a grand feast in your honor after the city tour.”

“Of course.  It would be our pleasure.  I for one can’t wait to try more of your delicious foods.  How about you, Bones?”

McCoy feigned a smile.  “Our Captain certainly does enjoy everything exotic.”

Kirk patted him on the shoulder as they walked behind the Shaman.  “That’s the spirit, Bones!” he whispered.

 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Ka’al’s entire army of soldiers, numbering more than one-hundred, crowded into the courtyard of the fortress.  Their armor clanked as they waited for their leader to appear.

As he stepped out onto the balcony, Ka’al could feel the energy radiating off of his fighters.  They were ready for battle.  Enraged.  Frenzied.

They all erupted in a cacophony of cheers as he appeared.  Guns and spears raised high in the air, they eagerly awaited his orders.

Ka’al looked out over his minions with pride.  They certainly were a force to be reckoned with.  Strong warriors who wouldn’t hesitate to kill or maim in his name. 

Loyal.

He stretched his arms wide and bellowed into the wind.  “Men!  Now is our chance to strike!  The moment we have been waiting for has come…and it will be sweeter than we could have possibly ever imagined!”

The crowd roared. 

“The sitting government leaders and elders are weak and cowardly!  They look to outsiders to help with problems that are easily taken care of internally.  They make our people look the fool when they beg for entrance into the Federation.  We have no need for them or any organization to come here!  They will only try to take our culture, our livelihood, away from us and make us into carbon copies of themselves!”  He paced on the walkway.  “Not only will our timid ‘leaders’ learn their lesson by night’s end…but the Federation will as well!”

He looked down at his army of warriors, clamoring for the fight to begin, for their time to ravage their way into the city and take what they thought was theirs.  It was as if they were possessed, some unseen force making their actions more and more violent and chaotic with each passing moment.  Ka’al knew that once he gave the order—and the name of the man who would feel the brunt of their wrath—that they would be ready for battle. 

All he had to do was let them loose.

“Yes!  Starfleet is here!  They will bear witness to the ushering in of a new government!  A fearless power!” He raised arms high into the air and shook them, his chain mail jingling.  “Tonight our people will get a new leader!  One who isn’t willing to bow down to the Federation!  I promise you that our people will return to glory!  No more will we be at the whim of those reticent ner-do-well’s in our highest political positions!  I will lead our people into the next era of greatness!  Xentia will be known for our power and strength, not for our brains!”

The group of soldiers erupted in screams and hoots. 

“The men that the Federation sent, they came on a mission of peace, to welcome Luuk-ti and his cowardly group into their arms.  They will regret the day they ever set foot on our glorious planet!”  He splayed his arms out at his sides, basking in the emotion and power emanating from the crowd below him.  “One man!  The officer in gold!  Take him out and you will go down in history as the hero who kept the Federation at bay!  No longer will they try to take our identities from us, our culture, and assimilate us into their cult!”

He pounded his fist on the metal rail of the balcony.  “James Kirk!  Remember that name!  Remember!   By midnight he will be dead…and the Federation will know that they have chosen the wrong planet to take!”


	4. Caught in the Crossfire: Chapter Four

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Four

                The away team and the Shaman sat comfortably in the vehicle as it wound its way through the narrow streets of the capital city.  The top of the car was open, allowing the breeze to blow through their hair.  In the west, the sun was beginning to set, a pink glow reflecting off of the metallic-like stonework of the buildings.  Residents waved and smiled, children ran alongside as the vehicle clawing at the side, in an attempt to get the officers’ attention.  Everyone seemed cheerful and genuinely excited to see Starfleet’s presence.

“…and to your right you’ll see our largest library.  We pride ourselves on higher education, and ensure that every child is given the opportunity to attain the very highest degree of knowledge.  Access to books and media is never limited.”

“Shaman Luuk-ti, might I enquire what the University entrance rate is among your youth?”  Spock had his PADD on his lap, recording information as they toured the city.

“Certainly, Mister Spock.  I am very proud to report that over ninety-three percent of our secondary school students continue on to the University.  With higher schooling being free in our society, most of our young choose to further their education simply because they can.  It is a wonderful gift we can give to our children.  If we are granted entry into the Federation, I would hope that many of our students would choose to enter Starfleet Academy.”

Kirk chimed in. “The Academy has so many opportunities, Shaman.  Who knows?  One of those kids out there in the street could be the first Xentian starship captain!”  He waved to a child, who jumped up and down and waved back, a huge toothy grin.

“Indeed, Captain Kirk.  The next generation of young Xentians eagerly await the Federation’s decision on whether or not we will be allowed admission.  Every day in the streets, you can overhear the children speak of starships and alien races, warp cores and shuttlecraft.  They can’t wait until the day where they can travel the stars knowing that we have an ally that will protect us as we search the skies for more knowledge.”

Spock spoke up.  “And what of the Graz’ Kuul-ai?  It would be logical to assume that they have some sort of influence on society.  With their radical political views, surely they mean to recruit for their ranks in the cities.  Young people are the logical choice for such endeavors as they are highly impressionable.”

Luuk-ti lowered his eyes.  “Unfortunately, you are correct, Mister Spock.  Their group has grown since its inception several years back, and even though we in the government have been fairly successful in keeping them out of everyday life…”  he sighed heavily.  “…their reach is far from short.  We do lose young to them every year, and it weighs heavily upon our people.”

Kirk offered a suggestion.  “Why not give the Graz’ Kuul-ai the opportunity to explain themselves in a controlled environment?  It might help both parties understand each other better.”

“Thank you for the recommendation, Captain.  We did allow them such a pedestal, two years ago, from which to state their case. It turned into a shouting match that ended with one of our high-ranking officials being poisoned to death.”

McCoy glared at Kirk and whispered under his breath, “Remember when I told you to ask me in an hour if I was still pissed at you for coming down here?  Go ahead, guess my answer.”  Kirk discreetly slapped McCoy on the side of the thigh to quiet him.  “Poison, Jim!  Harmless my a-”

Kirk spoke up, ending McCoy’s whispered rant.  “Shaman, can you be sure that they had something to do with the death?”

 Luuk-ti nodded slowly.  “Unfortunately, yes.  Days later a body was found with a note attached to it.  It was a martyr from the Graz’ Kuul-ai claiming responsibility for the crime.  Along with it came a warning to never make fools of them again.”  He sighed, his reptilian breath hissing.  “Embarrassing them was never our intention.  They made themselves look foolish.  It is their nature.  Brash and impulsive.”

Kirk thought for a long moment as the car continued to move through the streets.  “Shaman, forgive me for asking again, but you are sure that they’re really more bark than bite?”  The concern was evident on his face.

The Shaman looked puzzled.  “’Bark and…bite?’  My apologies, Captain Kirk, but once again I am confused by your vernacular.”

“He means to say are you sure they’re really not that dangerous?  Poisoning an official is something that usually causes alarm.”  McCoy scowled as he spoke.

“Thanks, Bones, I’ve got it from here.”  Kirk subtly gave McCoy a look that said, ‘let me handle this.’   “Please excuse him, Shaman.  He tends to speak with passion, which isn’t always a bad thing.”

Luuk-ti bowed his head.  “If you are worried for your personal safety while here on Xentia, please know that any and all precautions have been taken to ensure you have a secure and enjoyable visit.  We have been monitoring the Graz’ Kuul-ai and have seen no threats for some time.  Again, we hope that if the Federation decides we are worthy to join, you would be willing to provide guidance on how better to deal with them.  Please forgive me a second time for not being entirely open about the problems we have had with the Graz’ Kuul-ai.  I hope this behavior on my part will not negatively influence the Federation’s decision.”  He smiled faintly as he pointed to another building.  “Now, where were we?  With all this talk about those hoodlums, we’ve missed some beautiful examples of Xentian architecture.  There you can see the medical school where…”

Only McCoy seemed to notice the abrupt change in the mood of the citizens in the streets.  People began to go inside and shutter storefronts.  Children were whisked off the sidewalks abruptly by frightened parents. 

McCoy leaned in close to Jim as the Shaman prattled on.  He spoke with a low whisper, his mouth barely moving in an attempt to not draw attention to himself.  “Jim, look.  The people…something spooked ‘em.  They’re all clearing the streets.  And their color changed.  It’s orange now.”

Kirk looked over his shoulder to see two children, a faint orange glow peeking out from underneath their clothing being forcefully pushed inside a house.  As the car turned the corner, he focused his attention back to the Shaman, who had abruptly stopped talking and had a look of terror in his eyes.

At the end of the street was a group of heavily armed Graz’ Kuul-ai.  Soldiers yelled as they pushed innocent bystanders to the ground, tore storefronts apart, scattering wares all over the street.  Women screamed, terrified hisses came from the mouths of children as their homes were destroyed.  One of the soldiers looked up from his pillaging and noticed their vehicle. 

“Starfleet!”  His voice hissed angrily as he pointed his spear in their direction.

The sound of gunfire erupted seconds later and Kirk found himself being shoved to the floor of the car, McCoy laying on top of him shielding him from whatever was about to come their way.

“Spock!  Get down!”  Kirk screamed frantically from underneath McCoy.  The Vulcan dropped down into a crouch, covering his head with his PADD.  “And Bones, get off me!”

Lieutenant Fox remained standing, pulling his phaser out of the holster.  He never got a chance to fire it.  A single shot pierced his temple and his body fell from the vehicle.  There would be no time to retrieve him. 

“Fox!” Kirk’s voice was filled with horrified sorrow.  He tried to reach for him as he fell.  McCoy was having none of it, and pushed him back forcefully.

Luuk-ti pulled his robes over his head and did the same.  “Driver!  Turn around quickly and get us back to the capitol building!”  A bullet shot through the windshield, instantly killing the guard who had been sitting in the front passenger seat.  His body slumped to the side, his head lolling backwards.  Lifeless eyes stared directly at Kirk, orange blood already beginning to pool in the poor soul’s open mouth.

The Graz’ Kuul-ai began to run towards the car as the driver wrenched the wheel in an attempt to turn in the narrow street.  With little clearance, he spun the vehicle around, hitting a fruit stand and scattering the produce on the street.  The wheels of the car crushed the delicate fruits as it sped away.

 “Jim!  Are you hit?”  McCoy quickly ran his hands up and down Kirk’s uniform top and pants, looking for any signs of injury.

“I’m fine, Bones!”  Kirk began to sit up, only to be pushed back by McCoy.

“Stay down, dammit!” McCoy ducked just in time as a bullet whizzed past his head.  “This is bat-shit insane!  Those bastards are trying to hit _us_!” 

The gunfire continued, bullets ricocheting off of the stone buildings.  The driver sped up and flew down the street, the few people left outside darting out of the way as they passed.  Within minutes they were at the capitol building, two carloads of Graz’ Kuul-ai hot on their tails.

Kirk jumped from the open-roofed vehicle without bothering to use the door; instead he vaulted himself over the side.  Spock and McCoy were right behind him, dodging not only bullets but spears.

McCoy shrieked as a metal spear flew between him and Kirk.  “Jesus Christ!  Now they’re using _spears?_ ” 

Luuk-ti had made it to the massive door and was holding it open, beckoning the men to hurry inside with a clawed hand.  “Hurry, gentlemen!  Once we’re inside they won’t be able to get to us!”  His movements were frantic.

“What about Lieutenant Fox?”   Kirk looked to McCoy with concern in his eyes as he ran.

“We have to leave him, Jim!  If we go back those bastards’ll drop us like flies under Memaw’s swatter!”  He grabbed Kirk by the arm.  They sprinted to the door, tumbling inside just as a spear shattered on the stonework next to them.  Spock followed seconds later and Luuk-ti’s guards slammed the massive door shut behind them.

A dozen capitol guards, all armed with assault-type rifles stormed down the grand staircase and took their positions in front of Luuk-ti and the away team.  They readied their weapons at the door. 

The group stood panting, trying desperately to catch their collective breath.  The guards locked the heavy door and backed up in a defensive stance, weapons ready.   As the Graz’ Kuul-ai outside pounded on the outside, Kirk and his men slowly moved backwards, along with the Shaman.

“Spock!  Contact the Enterprise!” Kirk wiped the sweat from his brow.  “Tell them we need immediate extraction!” 

The pounding on the door that had been relentless up until that point suddenly stopped.  The only sound was that of Spock’s voice trying to contact the ship.

“Enterprise, do you read?  Enterprise?”  Spock turned to the Kirk.  “Captain, I am unable to connect with the ship.  The magnetic interference of the stonework is obstructing any attempted signal.  We must move away from the buildings to contact the Enterprise.”

“Are you out of your Vulcan mind?”  McCoy moved extremely close to Spock, so much so that their noses almost touched.  “The minute we set foot out of this building, they’re going to shoot us!”

“I am aware of the risk, Doctor. I was simply stating the obvious fact that we will be unable to contact the ship unless we change locations.  I was not suggesting that we actually attempt it at this time.  It would be illogical to risk our lives at this moment.” 

“Well then what do you suggest we d-“

The door exploded in, wooden shrapnel splintering into the room.  Everyone ducked and covered their heads as the wood flew through the air.  As the smoke began to clear, a looming figure entered through the haze.  

“Illustrious Shaman, Luuk-ti!  Look how you cower behind your flunkies!”  He cracked his massive knuckles.  “See if your Starfleet saviors can protect you now!  As of this moment, this government is mine.  Xentia will never be known as a puppet of the Federation!”

Luuk-ti gasped, then stood up straight, standing his ground.  “Ka’al!  You are not welcome here! Whatever you’re trying to accomplish, know that you will fail!  With Starfleet on our side, you cannot possibly wi…”

A second later, his eye was pierced by a bullet, his body falling limply to the ground.  Kirk looked on in horror from behind the guards as the Shaman’s corpse twitched briefly before becoming still.

“Captain, we need to run quickly!”  Spock’s voice was whispered but urgent.  “I do not believe that Ka’al has taken notice of us.”  Spock drew his phaser and set it to kill.

“I’m with you on that one!”  Kirk grabbed McCoy by the arm and tugged him down the hallway, Luuk-ti’s guards trying to keep Ka’al and his men at bay.  The noise of the ensuing scuffle and shots was deafening in the cavernous hall of the building.

Kirk didn’t have the slightest idea where he was headed, but knew they needed to contact the Enterprise before they were all killed.

As they ran down the halls, turning down random corridors to lose their pursuers, the sound of heavy, fast-moving footsteps threatened closer with each second. 

“Jim!  Now do you believe me when I say this was a bad idea?”  McCoy was out of breath, his voice forced as his lungs burned.

Kirk darted down a dark hall.  “Now isn’t the time to say ‘I told you so’ Bones!  Save it for the ship!”

McCoy released a tirade of expletives as he followed Jim and Spock down the deserted hallway. 

They took refuge in a small alcove and tried to gather their thoughts on what to do next.

“What the hell is going on?”  McCoy’s eyes were fearful.  “Is this some goddamned military coup?”

Spock checked the charge on his phaser.  “It would appear so, Doctor.”

“Great, just great.”  McCoy grumbled as he tried to covertly check Jim again for injuries.  “’ _Trust me, Bones!  It’ll be fun!’_ he says.  You’re idea of fun is sadistic, you know that Jim?”

Kirk brushed his McCoy’s hand away from his arms.  “I’m not injured, so quit checking me!”  He tried to catch his breath.  “So now what, Spock? I’m pretty sure we’re cornered.”

“Affirmative, Captain.  Although I am not familiar with the layout of the building, it would be prudent to expect Ka’al’s men to be entering from more than one point.  If they are indeed planning to take over the seat of government, it would stand to reason that they would want to control the building and its occupants as quickly as possible.”

Kirk nodded.  “Those guys out in the street knew we were Starfleet.  They were aiming at us.”

“You’re damn right they were aiming at us!  Somehow I don’t think the Federation will look too kindly on this type of behavior!”  McCoy scowled angrily at Kirk.

“You’re not helping, Bones.”  He leaned forward to peek around the corner.  “The coast is clear.  I say we head down the hall and hope there’s an exit that isn’t blocked by several angry soldiers.”

“While I agree that we need to move forward to facilitate our escape, I suggest that you let me go first, Captain.  Your safety is our number one priority.”  Spock moved forward on his haunches, also looking around the corner.

Kirk agreed.  “Be careful, Spock.”

The Vulcan nodded.  “Wait for my signal, then follow closely behind me.”  He moved out into the hallway, crouching as he slowly made his way to the end.  He peered carefully in both directions before motioning for his comrades to follow.

Kirk and McCoy both crept slowly towards Spock.  “Which way?”  Kirk’s voice was a whisper, almost drowned out by the commotion of the fighting going on in the building all around them.

Spock thought for a long moment before turning left down the hallway.  McCoy looked at Kirk with suspicion.  “How the hell do we know _he knows_ where he’s going?”

“I am heading East, Doctor.  The main entrance is located on the West side of the building, so it would stand to reason that if we were trying to make a getaway, the logical route would be as far away from there as possible.”  He turned to look at McCoy with a raised eyebrow.  “Unless you can suggest a better alternative?”

McCoy scowled.  “Just don’t get us killed.”

“It is not my intention, Doctor.  Now please follow me.”

The three men carefully made their way down the hallway, which was eerily without any commotion.  This did not go unnoticed by McCoy.  “It’s too quiet.”

Kirk mustered a sly smile.  “Don’t be so pessimistic, Bones!  Would you rather be dodging bullets?”

“I’d rather be on the ship.”

Kirk patted him on the back.  “You’ll be back to your stuffy old Sick Bay before you can say ‘Georgia Peach Pie.’”

“I hate peach pie.”  McCoy narrowed his eyes.

The sounds of the skirmishes and gunfire echoed through the building.  It seemed to be getting closer.  The three men picked up their pace, moving swiftly towards the end of the hall.  Once there, they were presented with a problem.

Just as Kirk had predicted, there were a number of soldiers.

“Aww, great,” Kirk muttered under his breath as he peered around the corner.  “We’re gonna have to run for it.  Look, over there…”  Kirk pointed with his phaser.  “…that hallway has a door at the end.  And it’s open.”

“Jim are you out of your goddamned mind?  We’d be running across an active firefight!”

“It’s that or get caught here, Bones!   You want to see the ship again?  Put your running shoes on!”

“Captain, I agree with Doctor McCoy.  Running out into the room would put us in considerable and unnecessary danger.”  Spock’s face was emotionless.

Kirk huffed.  “We don’t have time to argue.  If we don’t make a run for it, they’re going to capture us.  It’s only a matter of time.  I know it’s stupid, but it’s the only chance we have.”

Spock thought.  “I would object further, but I know you would not take my warning.”  Kirk smiled slyly.  “I would like it noted in your log upon return to the ship that I was opposed to this, Captain.  Should anything go awry.”

Kirk smirked.  “You got it, Spock.  Now let’s haul ass!”

Kirk sprinted out into the foyer, the soldiers never even noticing him.  Spock and McCoy were hot on his tail, their feet flying as they crossed the expanse.

Fifty feet.  That’s all they had to cross.

Bullets flew willy-nilly through the air as the capitol guards fought valiantly to save their building and their livelihood from the rebels.  They were all caught up in the moment.

None of the soldiers heard the pained cry erupt from Kirk’s lips as the bullets tore into his body. 

The Captain stumbled to his knees, his body lurching forward as he began to fall to the floor.  Blood spurted from his mouth as he gasped. 

“Jim!”  Without stopping, McCoy reached down and grabbed Kirk by the shoulders, dragging his instantly heavier body backwards towards the other hallway.  “Spock!  Jim’s hit!” 

Spock ducked as an errant bullet nearly missed his head.  He reached out and assisted McCoy by grasping Kirk’s already bloodied arm.  The two men hauled their fallen Captain into the hallway and through an open side door, which Spock immediately locked once they were inside.

They were in a storage room, no bigger than nine feet across and wide.  A small window, low to the ground adorned the back wall.  Spock switched on the overhead light, bathing the room in a pale yellow glow.

“Jim?”  McCoy slapped his cheek, trying to get him to respond.  He pressed his index and middle finger to Jim’s neck.  His pulse was erratic and faster than it should be. The Tricorder in his other hand blared as warnings started to sound.  His eyes darted over Kirk’s body, taking inventory of the bloodstains growing on various parts of his uniform top and pants. He didn’t need the damn device to tell him that Kirk was critically injured.

_Upper Left Thigh, no exit wound.  Left Abdomen, no exit wound._

He gently rolled him and checked his back.  Kirk cried out in pain. 

_Left Shoulder, no exit wound._

_Goddammit._

_Projectile ammunition.  Bullets._

_Heavy bleeding already._

_Shit._

As McCoy rested him on his back once again, Kirk’s eyes rolled around in his head, his breathing becoming labored.  His uniform top was almost completely soaked in blood.  He struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Jim!  Look at me for a second!”  He shook the man gently.  “Listen to me, alright?  You’ve been shot.  Old school, with bullets.”

McCoy could tell Kirk wasn’t focusing clearly, and he wondered if he had even heard him.  The fallen Captain writhed on the ground, attempting to clutch his belly with his right hand.  His left arm was almost completely useless, as the shoulder joint had been ripped apart by the slug. 

“I’ve got to get your shirt off, Jim.  Hold still for a second, or this’ll hurt more.” McCoy retrieved a small pair of scissors from his Med Kit and began to slice the uniform top up the middle, then split the sleeves on either side.  The sight he exposed was horrific.

Jim had a large, gaping wound on his left side, just below his ribcage.  It was spewing blood at an alarming rate.  McCoy hastily pressed his hand on top of the hole, in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

Kirk screamed.  “Don’t!  Bon…”  His eyes screwed shut as he gasped.  He tried to force McCoy’s hand away weakly.  “Oh God!  St…”

McCoy grasped Kirk’s bloody hand with his own and squeezed.  “Listen to me, Jim.  You have to calm down.  I know it hurts, alright?”  He was relieved when Kirk squeezed back, albeit very weakly.  His eyes scanned upwards on Kirk’s heaving chest, towards the shoulder.  Another hole glared at him, this one not bleeding as much as the abdominal wound. 

_No exit wound means the bullet’s probably embedded in his shoulder blade.  Better there than in his brachial artery._

McCoy decided the bleeding from the shoulder wound was minimal enough to let alone for the time being.  It would need to be dealt with at some point, but the doctor had other worries at the moment.

His eyes moved down to Kirk’s left thigh, wet blood staining the already dark fabric.  Even though the pants were black, the mark was still visible.  McCoy poked his finger into the hole in the trousers and pulled the fabric aside, trying to determine the severity of the injury.  Jim hissed in pain as he brushed over the open wound.

“Sorry, Jim.  I’m gonna have to cut your pant leg off, too.” 

Kirk’s voice was weak and pained as he still managed to crack a joke.  “See?  ‘Always knew…one day you’d want…to get in my pa…”  He gasped and threw his head back as McCoy pulled the cloth away from his bleeding leg.

The bullet hole was ugly.  The projectile had gone in at a weird angle, causing the edges of the wound to be jagged.  McCoy could just see the butt end of the bullet lodged millimeters into the muscle.  He thought briefly about trying to pry it out with his bare hands, but he knew Jim would most likely scream like a banshee.

And then the soldiers would certainly find them.

He thought quickly, looking around for something to fashion a temporary tourniquet.  He was running out of hands to apply pressure.  He almost didn’t hear Spock.

“Doctor, how badly has the Captain been injured?”  Spock’s face actually showed the smallest hint of concern.

“I don’t know yet, dammit!  Get over here and help me so I can finish checking!” 

Spock checked the lock on the door once more before quickly moving to Kirk’s side.

“Hold your hand here,” McCoy instructed, pointing to Jim’s abdomen.  “Press hard, no matter how much he bitches.  He’s bleeding too much.”

Spock did as he was instructed, Jim crying out as new, stronger pressure was applied.  Blood pooled under the Vulcan’s palm.

As soon as Spock’s hands were firmly in place, McCoy grabbed Jim’s discarded uniform shirt and ripped off one of the bloodied sleeves.  Working quickly, he wrapped the sleeve around Kirk’s thigh and fastened it tight, causing the Captain to whimper.  The doctor took note that Jim’s strength seemed to be fading.  He should have cried out much louder when he pulled the tourniquet tight.  It had to have hurt like a bitch.

McCoy wiped a bloody hand across his sweat-soaked brow.  He looked down at Jim, half-lidded icy blue eyes meeting his own.  He gently ran his fingers through his friend’s sweat-dampened hair in an attempt to calm him.

“Jim, you gotta stay with me, you hear?”  He checked his friend’s pulse again.  Thready and weakening.

Kirk blinked lethargically.  “It hurts…”  He swallowed hard.

McCoy’s heart broke in two.  He knew Jim must have been in terrible pain, but he was reluctant to administer any pain meds until he knew the full extent of the Captain’s injuries.  He needed a better, brighter and more sterile environment to work in. 

And this dusty storage room certainly did not fit the bill.

“Look, Jim.  I…”  He hesitated as a pained look crossed Kirk’s face and he shifted on the floor.  “…I know it hurts.  And I know that you probably want me to give you some painkillers…”

A single tear ran down Kirk’s face and disappeared into the hairline above his ear.  McCoy had to fight his own sorrow.  It was time to be a professional, for his friend’s sake.  He grabbed Jim’s hand squeezed. 

“…it’s just that I can’t right now.  I don’t know how badly you’ve been hurt yet.  Spock and I are going to get you to the extraction site and then I promise you I’ll dope you up like there’s no tomorrow.” He managed a small, comforting smile. 

Kirk’s eyes were pleading.  “Pl-please, Bones…”  His breathing was becoming erratic.  “…help…me.”

McCoy knew he needed to stay strong for his friend.  “I’m gonna help you Jim.  We’re gonna be back on the ship in no time.”

Blood began to trickle from the corner of Jim’s mouth.   “So sorry…Bones.”  He closed his eyes, and was having a hard time catching his breath. 

McCoy recognized this pattern.  The pain was becoming too much for Jim.  He cursed himself for wishing that he’d just succumb and let himself go unconscious.  Then at least he wouldn’t be in agony anymore.

Kirk tried to continue, his eyelids struggling to stay open.  “You…t’ld me so.  Y’knew…would happen...”  His chest shuddered as he let out a shaky breath.  “…were right…Bo…”  Jim’s eyes finally closed and his head lolled to the side.

McCoy let his head droop, causing a tear to slide down his face and splatter on Jim’s shoulder. 

_Sweet Christ, what have I done?  I let my best friend lay here in anguish and hoped he’d just go out._

_I’m a monster._

“Doctor McCoy.”

He looked up and locked eyes with the Vulcan for a brief moment before returning his attention to the unconscious man at his knees.

“Doctor, you lied to the Captain.  We do not have any way of safely reaching an acceptable distance away from the city.  We will not be able to return to the Enterprise for some time.”

McCoy scowled as he tore the other sleeve from Jim’s shirt and balled it up.  “What the hell was I supposed to do?  He was hurting, Spock!”  He pushed Spock’s hand away from Jim’s weeping abdomen and pressed the cloth to the wound.  He then grabbed the Vulcan’s hand again and replaced it on the fabric.  “Sometimes you need to fudge the truth a little to get someone through shit like this!” 

Spock merely nodded and kept steady pressure on the Captain’s stomach.

McCoy looked down at Jim’s face, no longer wrenched up in agony. 

He would get Jim through this.  He would piece him back together, like always.

He just needed to get Jim somewhat stable enough to drag to the extraction site.  He hoped the commotion would die down enough so that they could attempt to leave under the cover of darkness. 

McCoy dug through the Med Kit and got to work, praying that soldiers wouldn’t come crashing through the door.

 


	5. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Five

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Five

                “Enterprise, come in.”  Spock was crouched near the window in an attempt to gain a better signal.  “Lieutenant Uhura, do you copy?”

McCoy looked up and watched as Spock adjusted settings on his communicator.  He prayed the Vulcan would make contact soon.  If the Captain didn’t get better treatment quickly, he could die.

Kirk was still at McCoy’s knees, his chest rising and falling in an uneven and labored cadence.  Even though he was unconscious, his brows were knitted together in pain.  Blood oozed from underneath both makeshift bandages applied to both his thigh and abdomen.  McCoy had found a length of rope in the storage room and had used it to bind the wadded up shirt sleeve to Jim’s stomach.  At least his hands were free now.

He ran the Tricorder up and down Jim’s body, scowling at the results that came back to him. 

_Heavy internal bleeding within the abdominal cavity.  Bullets embedded in spleen, left shoulder blade and muscle of upper left thigh.  Elevated heart rate.  Decreased respirations.  Blood pressure dropping.  Severe blood loss.  Shock setting in._

_Christ, Jim, could there be anything more wrong with you right now?_

_…Yeah, you could be dead._

McCoy carefully lifted the bandage from Jim’s thigh and inspected the wound.  Even though the Tricorder had indicated the projectile had missed any major arteries, the blood flow was still substantial.  McCoy knew he needed to get that bullet out sooner rather than later.

The wadded sleeve held in place on Jim’s abdomen was soaked with blood.  He didn’t need to move it to know how bad the wound was.  Scans showed the bullet in Kirk’s spleen was actually helping at the moment.  It was acting like a cork, keeping the bleeding from becoming instantly life-threatening.  If it were to move, Jim could bleed out in less than an hour.  Eventually, he would need to remove that bullet as well, preferably on the Enterprise.  He looked at the crimson liquid that was pooling under Kirk’s body, seeping into the cracks between the stones of the floor.

McCoy hated the fact that the room wasn’t sterile, that Jim was lying on a filthy floor with exposed wounds.  He cringed at the thought of thousands of alien microbes potentially entering Jim’s already weakened body.

The faint, but garbled sound of Uhura’s voice drew his attention away from Jim for a moment.  It sounded as if Spock had made contact with the ship. McCoy breathed a sigh of relief and patted Jim on the shoulder.  He leaned in and whispered.  “Ya hear that, Jim?  That damned Vulcan’s gonna get us back after all.”

_“…-smission fading, Spo…happened?  …-rk injur…?  …-king up…”_

“Lieutenant Uhura, we need immediate extraction.  Captain Kirk has been critically injured and requires emergency medical treatment.  Send the standby shuttle to the agreed on coordinates immediately.  Do you copy?”

Static was all they heard from Spock’s communicator.  With a sinking feeling in his gut, McCoy knew she hadn’t received the message.

They were stranded, and Kirk was slowly dying.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Uhura, please tell me you can clean that last message up.”  Hikaru Sulu stood behind the Captain’s chair.  With both Kirk and Spock off the ship, he was now in command.  “I could hardly make anything out.”

Uhura feverishly tried to scrub the signal that had come up from the planet.  Nothing she seemed to do made any difference.  “I’m sorry, Sir.  There’s nothing I can do.  The magnetic interference is making any recovery of the message impossible.  You heard what I heard…I think Kirk’s been injured.”  A concerned look crossed her face.  “They’re on their own until we can get a better signal.  There’s no way to help them.”

Sulu tightened his grip on the back of the seat, the leather squeaking under his hands.  He felt out of place, as if he were stealing Kirk’s power from him.  He knew that the Captain had complete confidence in his abilities, but he still felt like he didn’t belong in the chair.  Hence, his reluctance to sit.   And now, with something having gone terribly wrong on the planet’s surface, he was even more unnerved.  The fact that Spock had been the one to contact the ship and not Kirk made his stomach turn.

 Kirk was in trouble.

Chekov turned in his chair to face Sulu.  “Sir, might I suggest zat we send ze standby shuttle to ze coordinates Mister Spock designated?  If zey are in trouble, zey may be trying to move to zat location as ve speak.”  

Sulu agreed.  “Uhura, contact the shuttle bay and have them send the bird down.  Then at least try to get a message to Spock.”

“Yes, sir.  And I’ll put the message on repeat.”  She opened a recording channel.  “Commander Spock, this is the Enterprise.  We are sending a shuttle to the pre-designated coordinates.  ETA, twenty-one-hundred hours, sixteen minutes.”

Sulu stared at the view screen, the green planet Xentia glistening against the black expanse of space.  He sighed and told himself that everything was going to be alright.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Spock left his sentry position at the window and joined McCoy at Kirk’s side.  The Captain was still unconscious.  McCoy’s hands worked swiftly:  adjusting bandages, checking Tricorder readings and rifling through the meager contents of the small Med Kit he had brought with.

The doctor never looked up as he addressed the Commander.  “I’m guessing the news ain’t good.”  He handed Spock a pair of bloody tweezers.  “Hold those for a minute.  Don’t let ‘em touch the ground, it’s filthy.  Not that it matters, I guess.”

Spock watched as McCoy used the light from his Tricorder to further illuminate Jim’s leg.  The bandage had been removed, exposing the wound.  The doctor scowled.  “I tried to get the bullet out, but I just pushed it in deeper.  Damn it all to hell.”

“Doctor, what is the Captain’s condition?”

McCoy snatched the tweezers back and wiped them on the leg of his pants before replacing them in the Med Kit.  “Terrible.  He’s going into shock from the bleeding, his spleen’s been hit, and I can’t regulate his blood pressure without the proper meds.”  He sighed harshly.  “Which I don’t have with me.”  He looked up at Spock.  “Tell me there’s better news from the ship.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot, Doctor.  I did not receive a reply from Lieutenant Uhura, which leads me to suspect that our original message was not received.”

McCoy swore under his breath.  “Great, just great.  Jim’s layin’ here as his blood spills onto this filthy ground, in this _filthy hole_ of a room we’ve managed to lock ourselves into…”   He stared at the door.  “…and we’ve got no way to get out.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Actually, Doctor, I may have a solution.”

McCoy leaned back on his knees and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Oh really?  Well, lay it on me.  It can’t be any worse than this shit situation we’re in now.”

“I believe our best course of action is to move the Captain to the rendezvous point agreed on before our departure from the ship.  If Mister Sulu received even a portion of our message, it would stand to reason that he may become suspicious of the goings-on here on the planet and attempt a rescue.”

McCoy laughed.  “Oh, sure Spock!  Let’s just throw Jim over our shoulders and trot off out into the wilderness while those damned… _animals_ are out there.”

Spock cocked his head to the side.  “You are using sarcasm, are you not, Doctor?”

McCoy huffed and shook his head.  His Tricorder beeped and he picked it up, studying the screen intensely.  “Dammit, Jim.”  He looked to Spock, a defeated expression on his face.  “His blood pressure’s all over the place.  And he’s developing a fever.”

“Doctor, I realize that my suggestion is not without risks, however, it is highly probable that Mister Sulu will indeed send the shuttle.  I calculated the time in which it would take to launch and pilot a shuttlecraft from the ship, coupled with the estimated time span for Sulu to make the decision.  I believe that the shuttle will be landing within the next fourteen to fifteen-point-three minutes.”  He studied his PADD.  “Furthermore, it is now night, making our escape easier under the cover of darkness.”

McCoy put his fingers on Jim’s neck, manually checking his pulse.  His shoulders sagged. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right.  We need to get him out of here.  But how would you suggest we do that, hm?”  He put what little supplies he had used back in the Med Kit. 

Spock looked towards the low window.  “We must utilize the window, Doctor.  Going out the door would alert Ka’al’s men.”

McCoy scowled.  “I was afraid you’d say that.  I don’t know how much more his body can take, Spock. He’s in bad shape.”

“Noted, Doctor.  But it may be our only chance for some time.  It is logical to assume that if and when the shuttle is spotted, we will have little time to board safely and retreat.  I am aware of the Captain’s critical condition, and this may be, as you would say, ‘his last chance.’”  He looked down at Kirk.  “I do not wish any harm to him.”

“You’re gonna have to carry him.  He’s too heavy for me to lift.”

“Of course, Doctor.”  Spock gently lifted Kirk’s lolling head and worked his arm underneath the man’s shoulders.

“Careful, we can’t jostle him too much or the bullet in his spleen is liable to come loose.  Then we’ll have one hell of a problem.”  McCoy guided Spock’s hands underneath Jim’s legs, mindful of the thigh wound.  The Vulcan lifted Kirk in one fluid motion.  “I’ll go out the window first, and you can ease him through to me.” 

“Agreed, Doctor.”  Spock carefully made his way to the back of the room.  Blood began to cascade down from underneath the hasty abdominal bandage and off Jim’s back. It splattered onto the floor.

“Whoa, hold on, Spock.  He’s gushin’ blood like a damn waterfall.”  He waved the Tricorder over the still Captain.  “Shit!  The damn bullet moved!  We’ve gotta stop, Spock.”

Spock knelt and gradually eased Kirk back to the floor.  McCoy immediately tightened the rope holding the soaked shirt-sleeve bandage in place, then initiated a more advanced Tricorder scan.  The doctor looked up, his eyes fearful.  “Spock, you’ve gotta think of something else.  If that damn bullet gets jostled again, he’s liable to bleed out.  And that’s something I can’t fix in this goddamn storage room!”

Spock sat quietly for a moment, closing his eyes to meditate on a solution.  “Allow me a moment to formulate another plan.”

_Oh, Jesus.  Jim’s gonna die here._

McCoy took advantage of the Commander’s deep thought to lean down and whisper in Jim’s ear.  “Listen to me, Jim.  You can’t leave me.  I just…”  He closed his eyes for a brief moment and inhaled, taking in the soft scent of Jim’s hair.  “...there’s too many things that I haven’t said to you yet.”  He stole a brief glance at the meditating Vulcan.  He put his forehead against Kirk’s.  “Just hang on a little longer.  Please.” 

He knew Jim was on borrowed time.

McCoy straightened up and checked Jim’s abdominal bandage again.

“Doctor, I have a suggestion.  I may be able to make improved contact with the Enterprise if I move away from the building.”

McCoy’s eyes bulged.  “Are you out of your mind?  You mean you’re actually going out there _alone_?”  He pointed to the window with a bloody finger.

“I have a better possibility of making contact the farther away from the magnetic interference I am.”

Kirk moaned softly at their knees.  Both McCoy and Spock looked down at their fallen Captain, the doctor applying pressure to the wound in Jim’s stomach.  “I guess we don’t have a choice.  Just don’t be gon…”

The lock on the door began to disengage, and McCoy and Spock froze.  Spock readied his phaser, set to stun. 

The heavy door swung open, revealing a petite form. 

“Stop where you are or I will fire my weapon.”   Spock’s voice was hushed, but commanding.

The figure immediately obeyed.

“Put your hands in the air and move into the room, closing the door behind you.”

 Doing as told, the figure eased into the room and quietly closed the door.  A pair of thin clawed hands raised into the air.  A feminine voice hissed softly.

“I am a friend, I promise you that.”  She gave off a faint blue light.  “My name is Mak’ai.  I saw your Captain get hit.  I came to help.”  A small golden key dangled from her finger.  “I work here in the building.” 

Spock kept his phaser drawn and moved closer to the Xentian female, positioning himself between his friends and her.  “How are we to know you are telling the truth?”

“Do you see my blue glow?  It’s for compassion.”

McCoy grunted.  “How do we know you people can’t fake that?”

Spock intervened.  “All of my readings indicate that to be impossible, Doctor.”  He lowered his weapon.  “She is being truthful.”

Kirk groaned, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment.  McCoy scanned him with the Tricorder.  “Dammit, he’s coming around. Which means he’s going to be very unhappy and in a shit-load of pain here in a minute.”

Mak’ai scooted forward, her long toe claws clicking on the masonry floor.  “Ka’al’s men have moved to another part of the building for the moment.  The door at the end of the hall leads outside.  I can get you safely to my home, where you can hide undetected.”  She knelt down at Kirk’s feet.  “I can also assist with your friend’s medical treatment.”

McCoy snorted.  “Well, that’s very kind, Missy.  But unless you’ve got a surgical suite in your house, I’d say you won’t be able to help much.” 

She reached out and gently rubbed Kirk’s boot.  “I am a third-year medical student, Mister…?”

“ _Doctor_ McCoy.  Leonard McCoy.”

“…DoctorMcCoy.  I have just completed my studies in human physiology and am eager to put my knowledge to work.”

McCoy scoffed.  “You think I’m going to let you practice on our Captain?”

Mak’ai shook her head.  “Please don’t take any offence, Doctor.  I was simply stating that I have knowledge of human bodies and am well-equipped to help if need be.”

McCoy relented.  “Well then, you’ve just made me the happiest man on this goddamned planet.”

Spock began to speak, but a blinding light followed by a large explosion stopped him. 

Through the window, a flaming shuttlecraft fell out of the night sky.

“Jesus Christ, that was our ride!’  McCoy shielded his eyes from the bright cloud of flames and debris scattering to the ground.  “Look, Spock.  We’re gonna have to trust her.  I need a better place to work.  These bullets need to be removed now, before Jim bleeds to death or goes septic.”

Spock cocked his head.  “Agreed, Doctor.  We will move the Captain to Mak’ai’s home.  There I will attempt to make contact with the Enterprise again.”

Mak’ai’s tone was urgent.  “Please, you need to come now.   We should be able to make a clean getaway now that Ka’al’s men will be focused on the crash.  My home is in the opposite direction.”  She opened the door and peeked her head out. 

McCoy helped move Kirk into Spock’s awaiting arms, the Captain stirring slightly.  “Stay as still as you can, alright Jim?  Spock’s gotcha.”  He didn’t know if Kirk heard him.

“The hallway is clear.”  Mak’ai motioned for them to follow.  “Hurry!”

Spock moved swiftly but carefully, his precious cargo limp in his arms.  Blood dripped onto the floor, leaving a trail of crimson splatters as they moved.

The group slipped out of the building unnoticed and disappeared into the darkness of the Xentian night.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

They darted through the deserted alleys of the capital city.  The darkness made it easier, but with no bustle of everyday life going on around them, their footsteps slapped loudly against the cobblestones of the streets.

“This way!”  Mak’ai ran ahead, signaling to turn down an even darker passageway. 

Spock trotted after her, McCoy right beside him, keeping a constant Tricorder scan going on Kirk.  Jim never stirred.

Mak’ai stopped them suddenly.  “Quiet!  We need to get under cover, I hear Ka’al’s men.”  She shooed them into a small alcove, which was pitch black inside.

The jingling of chain mail and the occasional hiss got louder and louder as the soldiers patrolled.  They were on the street just feet from where the group was hiding.

McCoy held his breath and prayed that Jim didn’t moan. 

The duo of soldiers stopped at the end of the alley, one of them drinking from a small flask.  Their voices were muffled.

_“Where do you think the Starfleet officers went?”_

_“Hopefully they’re running back to their ship with their tails between their legs.  Stupid Federation.”_

Jim began to stir, a faint groan emanating from his blood-stained lips.  McCoy’s stomach jumped into this throat and he quickly covered Kirk’s mouth with his hand, hoping to stifle the sound before the soldiers heard.

Not noticing, the soldiers moved on their way.  McCoy breathed a sigh of relief.  He checked Jim’s bandages with a scowl.  The bleeding from underneath the abdominal bandage wasn’t getting any better.  “Mak’ai, how far is your house?”

“Not far, Doctor McCoy.”  She crouched on her haunches, running a few clawed fingers through Kirk’s hair.  Her expression was compassionate, her voice soft and caring. 

“Doctor, I believe it would be wise to attempt to contact the Enterprise once more.  We are far enough away from the capitol building that contact may be possible.” 

McCoy nodded.  “Just make it quick, Spock.  And quiet.”  He felt Jim’s forehead.  Fever was definitely setting in.  “We need to get him somewhere…anywhere other than this goddamn alley.  Soon.”

Spock’s voice was hushed.  “Enterprise, do you copy?”

McCoy was never so happy to hear Uhura’s voice.

“ _Spock?  Where are you?  What is the Captain’s condition?”_

The static on the signal was constant.

“Lieutenant, the Captain has been critically injured and the shuttle has been destroyed.  We are unable to get to a safe transport location and are taking refuge with a Xentian who has volunteered to help.”

_“We’ll send another shuttle right away, Commander.”_

“Negative, Lieutenant.  Doing so would more than likely result in the second shuttle also being shot down.  The situation here on the planet has deteriorated and we are in the midst of a military coup.”

The signal began to become more and more static-laden. 

_“A coup?”_

“Yes, Lieutenant.  Inform Mister Sulu that once we reach our safehouse, we will attempt to stabilize the Captain so we can move him to the transport zone.  And Lieutenant?”

_“Yes, Spock?”_

“Whatever happens here on the surface, do not interfere with the Xentian coup under any circumstances.  Even if we are killed.  Is that clear?”

The line was silent for a moment and McCoy wondered if they had once again lost contact.

_“Yes, Sir.”_

“Contact Starfleet and inform them of the situation. We will signal you again when the Captain is ready to be moved to the transport site.   Spock out.”

Spock stowed his communicator, then gently cradled Kirk’s head on the crook of his arm.  “Is the Captain stable enough to continue, Doctor?”

McCoy read the Tricorder readout with a concerned scowl.  “No.  But we really don’t have a goddamn choice, do we?” 

Rising swiftly, Spock hoisted the limp man effortlessly.  “After you, Doctor, Mak’ai.”

Once again they were on the run, Kirk’s life hanging by a thread.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Blood.

Human blood.

The soldier noticed the trail of crimson splatters heading towards an open door at the end of the hall. He backtracked, following them into a small, dingy storage room.  Turning on the light, his eyes fell on the remnants of a gold Starfleet uniform, the sleeves missing.  It was soaked in blood.

The soldier crouched down, dipping his clawed finger into a small pool of the fresh liquid.  He brought the hand to his face and sniffed the substance, wrinkling his reptilian nose. 

He muttered under his breath.  “Filthy humans and their putrid blood.”

He took out a mobile communication device.  “Inform Master Ka’al that the Starfleet officers have escaped…and it seems as though their Captain has been injured.”

A sinister smirk crossed his lips as he left the room, Kirk’s blood staining the soles of his shoes.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

 

“Master Ka’al!”

The giant warrior stood in what once was Luuk-ti’s private chamber within the capitol building.  He looked out over the city, admiring the plumes of smoke and various fires burning below him. 

_Truly a beautiful sight._

“What is it?”

The young soldier knelt before his master.  “A message from Druk’laan!”

Ka’al turned away from the window and moved closer to his fighter.  “Rise and report.”

The soldier obeyed.  “Master, Druk’laan has found evidence that the Starfleet officers escaped into the city.  And,” his eyes lit up.  “It appears that Captain James Kirk has been injured. He found fresh human blood and a stained, tattered gold uniform top in a storage room.  He believes they were hiding there during the fight.”

Ka’al charged at the young soldier, lifting him by the neck with powerful hands.   “They escaped?”  His voice hissed with fury.  “You fools!  How could you let them get away?”

The soldier struggled in Ka’al’s crushing grip, gasping for air as he tried to defend himself.  “M…master!  They could…not have gone…far!”  His eyes began to roll back as his brain fought for oxygen.  “Their sh…shuttle was shot…down before…it landed…they did not…leave…Xen…”

Ka’al crushed his throat and tossed the body aside like a rag doll. 

He pointed a bony finger at another soldier in the room.  “Contact Druk’laan at once!  He will find those damned Starfleet officers and bring them before me…so I can make an example of them all!”

 

 


	6. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Six

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Six

                The house was on the outskirts of the city, nestled within a grove of looming, lush trees.  Several small dwellings surrounded it in what seemed to be a peaceful residential neighborhood. 

Or what would have been, had there not been marauding groups of thugs roaming the streets. 

Tonight all the windows were shuttered, the doors locked.  No one dared go outside.

They managed to get Kirk all the way to Mak’ai’s home without being spotted.  Spock had moved quickly with the Captain’s weight bearing down on his arms and back.  McCoy followed closely behind, muttering expletives under his breath every time Jim’s vitals took a tumble.

Which was more often than he would have liked.

Once inside, Mak’ai pointed to a small room off the main area.  “There’s a bed in there.  Please use it for your Captain.”  She bolted the door, then moved to pull the drapes on and lock all the windows.  She flipped on one lamp in the corner of the room, not wanting to bring any more attention from the outside by stronger light.  “I will be in as soon as I secure the rest of the house.”  She looked to McCoy.  “Then I will bring you anything you need.”

“Cloth for new bandages.  Anything will do:  pillowcases, towels, hell, even curtains.  Just make sure it’s absorbent and clean.”  He followed Spock into the small bedroom.

The Captain had regained consciousness as they had entered the house.  Spock gently laid Kirk on the bed.    Blood immediately began to stain the pristine white sheets.  Jim groaned and screwed his eyes shut as his body hit the mattress.  “B-bones…goddamn, it hurts!”

McCoy leaned over his friend, prying one of his eyes open and shining a pen light into the blue.  “I know, Jim.  Lemme take a look at you now that we’ve got a better place and then I’ll be able to give you something, alright?”

“Okay…”  His breathing was shallow.  He winced as McCoy removed the bandage on his stomach.  The wound was ugly, scarlet blood oozing out with every beat of Jim’s heart. 

 “Do you require my further assistance at this time, Doctor?”

McCoy shook his head, his eyes never leaving Kirk.  “Give us a few minutes alone Spock.  I need to examine him.”   Spock silently nodded and left to help Mak’ai.

“I’m going to press on your belly, Jim.  I’ve gotta check for internal bleeding.”

Kirk nodded lethargically. 

McCoy gently laid his hands on Kirk’s abdomen.  His nimble fingers confirmed what the Tricorder already told him.  Jim was hemorrhaging.  He pressed harder, eliciting a yelp from Kirk.

“Just hang on, Jim.  Almost done.”

Kirk gasped as McCoy worked his fingers around the wound, avoiding the actual entry site of the bullet.

_Shit, this is worse than I thought.  His belly’s full of blood._

He drew his hands back and laid the back of his palm against Jim’s sweaty forehead.  “All done.  You did good, kid.” 

Kirk closed his eyes and sighed.  “Don’t lie to me…Bones.  It’s bad…isn’t it?”  He cracked his lids open, the sapphire of his irises just a thin ring surrounding dilated pupils.

McCoy nodded.  He knew that he couldn’t sugar-coat his reply.  Jim would see right through him.  “It’s not good, that’s for damn sure.  You’ve got a lot of internal bleeding, and the bullet’s lodged in your spleen.  Not to mention the slug in your thigh and another in your shoulder.”

Kirk managed a small snorting laugh. “Guess I really…screwed up this time, huh?”  He tried to smile, but a pained expression quickly overtook his face.

“Yeah, well, that’s life with Jim Kirk.”  McCoy shook his head.  “We’re gonna get you fixed up and back to the ship, you hear me?”

Kirk closed his eyes all the way.  “Yeah, sure.”  He let out a long breath, his chest shuddering.  “Hurts so bad, Bones…”

McCoy reached into his Med Kit, pulling out a pre-loaded hypospray.  The label indicated it was filled with one of the most powerful painkillers available on the ship.  And thankfully, Jim wasn’t allergic.  McCoy just wished he had more than three on hand.  He knew that even at such a high dosage, it wasn’t going to numb Jim completely.  Kirk was too critically injured for that.  But it would make him marginally more comfortable for the next few hours. 

He just hoped it would be enough to get Jim through the hell he knew was coming.

The hypo hissed in his hand as McCoy delivered the anticipated meds into Jim’s bloodstream.  “Just relax.  This’ll help.”

Kirk’s expression eased as the medications took hold of him.  “That’s good…sh-shit, Bones.  Why don’ you g’mme that…all th’time?” 

The doctor sighed.  “Don’t want you to get used to it.  I don’t need you getting purposely hurt so I’ll give you the good narcotics.” 

Jim laughed, tiny droplets of blood spattering onto his lips.  McCoy wiped them away with his thumb. 

McCoy ran the Tricorder over Jim’s body.  His fever was rising, his blood count dropping.  The bullets needed to come out and the wounds had to be cauterized if Jim had any chance of surviving the night.

“Jim, listen to me.”  Kirk’s eyes lazily scanned McCoy’s face.  “I’m going to take the bullets out soon.  I’m not going to lie to you…it’s gonna hurt.  A lot.”

Kirk swallowed hard.  “Trust you…”  The medications were starting to take a stronger hold on him, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

Kirk groaned as he let out a small laugh.  “Gentle…th’ts funny…”  Keeping his eyes closed, he reached out his hand in search of McCoy’s.  Finally finding it, he squeezed as tight as he could.  “ ‘M scared, Bones.”

McCoy was glad Kirk’s eyes were closed.  He didn’t want his friend to see just how terrified he really was.  “Me too, kid.  Me too.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Mak’ai and Spock returned to the room several minutes later carrying various pieces of colored cloth.  McCoy was rifling through his Med Kit, laying the meager contents out on the empty side of the bed.  A number of hyposprays, a laser scalpel and cauterizer, and a smattering of scissors, tweezers and other medical supplies littered the area.  Jim rested, grimacing.

McCoy swore, holding a dermal regenerator in his hands.   “Goddammit.  You picked the worst time to lose your battery charge, you piece of shit.”  He tossed the useless instrument aside. 

“Mak’ai, if I may have a moment alone with Doctor McCoy?”  Spock’s tone was urgent.

She left the linens on a small table near the door.  “Of course.”  She closed the door behind her.

Spock moved towards the bed.  “Doctor, you must not let Mak’ai see any of your medical technology.  Admiral Pike was very clear in his orders.”

McCoy scowled.  “Are you really going to do this now?” 

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “The Prime Directive states that we must not interfere with the medical advancement of the Xentians.  Sharing our knowledge would be detrimental to their development.”

McCoy was livid.  “Are you out of your goddamn mind, Spock?”  His raised voice startled Kirk, his eyes fluttering open for just a moment before he succumbed to the drugs once more.  The doctor moved around the bed and grabbed Spock by the elbow, dragging him into the corner.  “Do you really care more about one alien seeing this tiny bit of shit technology that I have with me than you do about Jim’s life?”

Spock was unfazed by McCoy’s outburst.  “Doctor, the Captain’s life is important to me, as it is to all members of our crew. However, according to the Prime Directive, if you utilize…”

“Fuck the Prime Directive!  Jim’s got an hour at best if I don’t get those bullets out, Spock.  He’s lost too much blood and in case you haven’t been paying attention, I don’t exactly have a goddamned blood bank at my disposal to replenish him with!”  McCoy was shaking with anger.

Spock remained calm.  “I understand your concern, Doctor.”

“No, I don’t think you do, you green-blooded hobgoblin!”  He turned to look at Jim.  “He’s dying, Spock!  You and your emotionless brain can never understand just how much he means to the crew, and to m…”  He stopped himself.

Spock was quiet for a long moment.  He finally relented.  “I can see that you are not willing to concede in your use of Starfleet technology, Doctor. Please take heed that I will be required to report this in my log when we return to the Enterprise.” 

“Of course you will.”  McCoy began to walk back to the bed, where Kirk was shifting his weight, face contorted in pain.  “Now, are you going to help me or not?”

Spock kept his position and stared at the doctor briefly before replying, “I will…reluctantly…assist you, Doctor.”  He moved toward the bed.  “What do you require of me?”

McCoy adjusted the thin pillow under Kirk’s head.  The captain briefly opened his eyes at the movement and groaned.  “Ask Mak’ai to boil some water, I’m gonna need to sterilize my tools.”  He shot a menacing glance at the non-functioning dermal regenerator.  “And see if she’s got a needle and some thread.”

Spock cocked his head, a brief confused expression on his face.  “Doctor, are you planning to manually close the Captain’s wounds?”

“I don’t have a choice, Spock.  That piece of crap’s useless,” he pointed to the regenerator.  “And if I don’t suture the entry wounds his chance of infection will skyrocket.”  His hushed his voice.  “Not that it matters much; he’s already got a fever.” 

“I understand.  I will assist Mak’ai in gathering the supplies you need.”  He exited the room, leaving McCoy alone with Jim once more.

The doctor sat on the end of the bed, near Jim’s feet, facing away from him.  He laid a hand on the Captain’s bare calf.  “It’s almost time, Jim.  I promise I’ll try my best to make it as quick as possible.”

A weak, but undeniably “Jim” voice came from behind him.  “Liar. You’re gonna…p’rposely torture me…’ren’t you?”

McCoy turned around to see that well-known “Jim Kirk smirk.”  Even the sight of it couldn’t lighten his mood.  He scooted up the length of the bed, Jim’s eyes following the whole time.  “Not this time, Jim.”

Kirk managed a feeble smile and allowed his eyes to close once more.  “ ‘S gonna be okay, Bones.”  Jim weakly patted the doctor’s thigh.

McCoy sighed and prayed his friend was right.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

“Master Ka’al!”  A young female warrior knelt at his feet.  “We have received a message from Druk’laan.   He is assembling his finest fighters and will begin combing the outlying areas within the hour.”

Ka’al moved behind her and laid a clawed hand on her shoulder, curling his nails into the leather armor she wore.  “Good.  Inform him that I expect results by sunrise.”  He grasped her tightly, forcing her into a standing position.  Her body was stiff with fear as he moved around to face her.  “Also tell him that if he does not provide the officers alive—or if he allows them to escape—that I will personally see to it that he is drawn and quartered for treason.”

Her eyes bulged.  “Y-yes, Sir.” 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Mak’ai returned to the room, McCoy’s freshly sterilized scissors and tweezers cradled in a towel.  She also had a spool of thread and a few sewing needles that she had also boiled along with the tools. 

Jim had been made as comfortable as possible, a pillow placed under his thigh.  McCoy told Jim elevating the leg would make it throb less. What he didn’t tell him was that it would also make it easier to dig out the bullet.

McCoy hovered around Kirk, removing bandages and cleaning the wounds with a damp cloth.  The captain watched him work, his eyes struggling to say open under the weight of the medications McCoy had topped him off with.  Spock assisted, holding materials for the doctor as he worked.

“Here are your tools, Doctor.  And the needle and thread you requested.”  She set them on the end of the bed near Kirk’s feet.

Jim’s eyes shot open and he gave McCoy a suspicious look.  “N-needle an’…thread?”

“Don’t be a baby, Jim.  The regenerator’s dead, so I’m gonna have to do your wound closure the old fashioned way.”  He held up his hands.  “Trust these hands.”

Kirk smirked weakly and closed his eyes again.  “Yeah, sure.”  He shifted on the bed.  “Still hurts, Bones…”

McCoy scowled.  He wished he could give Jim more for the pain he was in—and was about to endure—but any more analgesics in his body and he could run the risk of Kirk going into respiratory distress.  And that was something he was not prepared for in the least. 

“I know, Jim.  But I can’t give you any more drugs right now.  You’ve almost got too much on board as it is.”  He thought for a long moment, then looked across the bed to Spock.  “What about that damn voodoo pinch?  Can’t you use that to knock Jim on his ass?”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “If by ‘voodoo pinch’ you are referring to the nerve pinch utilized by my people, I am afraid I am unable to perform it on the Captain at this time.” 

“And why the hell not?  It sure did a number on him when you decided to maroon him on Delta Vega!” 

Spock calmly replied, “While the nerve pinch is useful in most situations, it would be dangerous to attempt on the Captain in his current state.  His body is severely weakened, and it could prove fatal.”

“Well, we’re going to need something to keep him still.  I can’t give him any more pain meds and God knows he’s not going to like what I’m going to have to do.”

Kirk cleared his throat, his eyes still closed.  “ ‘M right here, Bones…I can hear ‘rything you’re sayin’.” 

McCoy grasped Jim’s forearm.  “Look, I don’t think you realize how painful this is going to be, Jim.  I don’t have anything to do a localized pain block with and you can’t have any more meds right now.”

Kirk sighed.  “I…know what’s comin’.  Scared shitless, but I know…”

McCoy’s heart sunk.  He hated seeing Jim this vulnerable.  Kirk was supposed to be strong and fearless.  “I wish I could do more for you, kid.” 

Kirk just nodded lethargically. 

“Spock, a word with you?”  McCoy motioned to the corner with his head.  “In private?”

“Certainly, Doctor.”  He followed McCoy to the other side of the room and stood, hands clasped behind his back.

McCoy’s voice was barely above a whisper.  “Look, you’re gonna have to hold him down with that crazy Vulcan strength of yours.  He’s gonna buck like a stallion the second I use that laser scalpel.”  He looked back at Kirk, eyes filled with pity.  “If we’re lucky, he’ll pass out from the pain and we can work properly.”

_Jesus Christ, am I really going to do this to Jim?_

_Yes…_

_Because he’ll die if you don’t._

“I agree that Captain Kirk must be held as still as possible during the procedure.  However, I will not be able to secure both his torso and arms and his legs at the same time.  Might I suggest finding a restraint for his lower extremities?”

“You mean strap him down?”  McCoy chewed on his lower lip.  It was a barbaric suggestion, but Spock had a point.  McCoy hadn’t had to use restraints in years, thanks to having a plethora of sedatives and anesthetics at his disposal.  He knew Jim wouldn’t like it—hell, no one liked being strapped to a bed.  But, he knew Spock was right.  Jim could hurt both himself and them very badly if he flailed while McCoy was working.

He looked back over to the bed, Mak’ai crouching near Jim’s head. She was whispering something into his ear, although McCoy couldn’t make out what it was.  She ran her claws through his hair. 

“Mak’ai?  Could we talk to you for a second?” 

She nodded and removed her fingers from Kirk’s locks.  She joined the two men in the corner. 

McCoy looked over at Kirk briefly.  “Do you think you could rustle up some kind of strap, or rope?  The stronger the better.”

Mak’ai cocked her head as she thought.  “I have a heavy leather strip that I use to secure vegetables to a small cart for market.  May I ask what it’s for?”

McCoy’s shoulders sagged, his voice hushed.  “It’s…we’re gonna need to strap him down for this.”   He motioned to Jim.  “Spock’s strong enough to hold his arms and torso, but I can’t have his legs kicking me or pushing himself off the bed.  Those bullets need to come out, and I don’t have any sedatives.”

Mak’ai’s expression softened.   “I see.  Perhaps I could hold his legs?  It seems cruel to restrain him like that.”

McCoy shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, missy.  But Kirk’s strong as a bull.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”  He sighed.  “Besides, you’re gonna have to muffle his screams.  We can’t have him alerting the soldiers.”

_Oh my God, he’_ s _gonna scream._

_Jim._

“I understand.”  Mak’ai hung her head.

“You think that band of yours is long enough to fasten under the bed?  It’s gonna have to be tight.”

Mak’ai nodded.  “Absolutely.  I wrap it two or three times around my cart to make sure my produce doesn’t scatter.  I’ll get it.”  She exited the room swiftly. 

The two men made their way back to the bed.  Kirk cracked open his right eye, focusing on the doctor.  His voice was weak and afraid.  “Please…don’t tie m’down.  I promise…I won’t kick.”  His face was creased with worry lines and his body was trembling. 

_He heard us talking._

_Dammit, Jim._

McCoy gently grasped his hand.  “Jim, this is gonna be the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life.  You can’t guarantee that you’ll be still.”  He shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry, but I have no choice.”  He felt so guilty.  McCoy knew why Jim didn’t want the restraints.  He had read his medical files. 

Tarsus IV was a wound that would never heal.

“I promise it won’t be for long, alright?” 

Kirk closed his eyes, tears bubbling at the corners.  “I guess… it’s…’outta m’hands.”  His breathing was becoming labored again as he shifted his weight. 

McCoy ran the Tricorder over him.  Jim’s vitals were spiking, as was his fever.  “It’ll be over before you know it.  Then we can move you to the transport site and get you back to the old girl in the sky, alright?”

Jim just sighed and turned his head away from McCoy.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy almost couldn’t look at the bed. 

Spock had just finished securing Kirk’s legs with the heavy leather strap. The captain had been moved down on the mattress slightly, giving Mak’ai enough room to sit behind his head.  She held a small strip of leather in her clawed hands. 

For Jim to bite on while McCoy tortured him.

Jim looked to tiny and vulnerable laying there, bleeding out and shaking.   McCoy didn’t know if the quaking was from anxiety or shock.

_Probably both._

The doctor had cleaned both Jim’s abdomen and thigh as best he could with sterilized water from Mak’ai.  He knew that the room and the area were by no means germ-free, but it didn’t matter much at this point.

He wasn’t even sure if this was going to work.

McCoy nodded to Spock and the Vulcan grabbed Jim’s chest and arms, pinning them with his massive strength.  Jim swallowed hard and turned his head to stare at McCoy.  His eyes were fearful.

“I’ll be as quick as I can, Jim.”

Kirk closed his eyes and nodded that he was ready.  Mak’ai placed the leather in his mouth and readied a fluffy cloth to use as a muffle.

_Jim.  I’m so sorry._

Nothing could have prepared him for the inhuman sound that erupted from Jim’s lungs.

As soon as the laser scalpel sliced into the soft flesh of Jim’s abdomen, Kirk unleashed what McCoy’s Granny used to call the “Devil’s scream.”  She had only heard it once in her life, she had said, when a young man had his leg amputated with no meds.

Kirk bucked under Spock’s hold, tears streaming down his reddened face as Mak’ai tried to replace the strip of leather between his teeth.  He shook his head violently and grabbed the bed sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white.  A second later he had torn holes in the fabric. 

“Spock! Hold him tighter!”   He turned a frantic eye to Mak’ai.  “And put that towel over his mouth!  The soldiers will hear him for sure!”                                                                                                                                                            

McCoy guided the scalpel across Jim’s belly, making a two-inch incision that intersected with the bullet hole.  As soon as the wound was opened more, blood poured out and onto the bed.  Without any sort of suction device, there was no way for the doctor to clear the pooling blood from the wound.  He pulled down on the cut slightly, allowing for most of the liquid to flow out over the side.  All the blood that had accumulated during the last hour and a half came cascading out.  Jim’s rigid belly became soft once again as the excess drained onto the mattress, then to the floor.

Kirk was sobbing now, his cries drowned out somewhat by Mak’ai’s gag.  She held her forehead against his, hissing melodically in her native tongue in what McCoy could only assume was an attempt to calm him down.

McCoy kept his resolve and continued to work, despite Jim’s desperate attempts to break free from Spock’s mighty grip.  He hastily looked down at the leg restraints, thankful that they seemed to be holding.

The doctor dug his fingers into the wound, quickly locating Jim’s spleen.  Keeping one hand on the damaged organ, he used his other to place his pen light in his mouth, allowing him to direct a beam of light into the wound, illuminating the bullet.

“I see you, you little bastard.”  His words were garbled by the light between his teeth.

He deftly grabbed a tweezers and held his breath.  He needed to get this on the first try.  

Taking one last glance at Jim’s contorted face, he steadied himself and jabbed the tweezers into the cut.  Jim moaned against the towel over his mouth, tears streaming down his face as he howled.  Spock’s strong hands were leaving white marks in Kirk’s skin as he thrashed.

McCoy envied the Vulcan in that moment, watching as his emotionless expression never wavered as he held Jim down.

_You lucky son of a bitch._

Jim’s strength finally left him as McCoy extracted the bullet.  With one final arch of his back and guttural scream, his body relaxed as he passed out.  His fingers fell slack and released the hold they had on the sheets, bloody handprints etched into the cloth.

As he studied the projectile clasped in the tweezers, McCoy let out a billow of relief.  Not just for the fact that he had managed to remove the bullet, but that Jim had finally succumbed and fainted. 

Jim’s chest still heaved with erratic breaths, even though he had lost consciousness.  Mak’ai continued to draw her claws through the short blonde hair on his head as she gently removed the cloth covering Kirk’s mouth.  There was a bloody stain on the fabric, the color coming from a cut on Jim’s lip where he had bitten himself.

_Good God, that was awful._

Not wasting any time, McCoy grabbed for the laser cauterizer and held it against the hole in Jim’s spleen.  Tiny puffs of acrid smoke rose from the wound as the bleeding vessels were sealed.  This would have to be repaired properly once they were aboard the Enterprise, but McCoy was relieved that it had seemed to go well.

So far.

Using it as a makeshift surgical sponge, he wadded up a thin washcloth and pressed it into the cavity he had been working in, absorbing the leftover blood from the spleen.  He then drew the sides of the wound open slightly, inspecting his work.  The spleen seemed to have stopped bleeding as a result of the cauterization. McCoy was thankful for that.   Tossing the bloody towel aside, he grabbed for a fresh one, folding it into a tight square and positioning it on top of the open wound.

“I think you can let go now, Spock.  He’s out like a light.”  The Vulcan released his grip on Jim’s chest and arms, faint bruising already beginning to show.  “Hold pressure with this cloth.  I’ll stitch it when I’m done with his leg.”

_The worst is over, Jim._

He moved down Jim’s body to his thigh.  Not bothering to wipe the blood from the tweezers, he got to work.  The incision needed on Jim’s leg wasn’t nearly as substantial as for his abdomen.  A few seconds with the laser and he could see the slug embedded in the muscle. 

“C’mere you son of a bitch.”  McCoy grabbed and removed it with ease, Jim never flinching. 

“Doctor, I am detecting an increase in the Captain’s heart rate.  Despite his unconsciousness, I believe he is in considerable pain.”

McCoy briefly peered up at Spock.  “You think?  I just yanked a bullet out of his guts without sedation.”  He tossed the projectile into his Med Kit, along with the other slug. He’d have them analyzed when they returned to the ship.  “We’re just gonna have to let him ride it out for a while.  I can’t give him any more pain meds for at least an hour.”

The doctor scrutinized the fresh wound on Jim’s leg before giving it a once-over with the cauterizer.  Satisfied that the internal bleeding had stopped, he dabbed it with a clean cloth and let out a sigh of relief. 

He ran the Tricorder over Jim.  His fever was rising, but at least his blood count had stabilized after McCoy closed off the bleeding vessels.  Reaching for the needle and thread, he knew he had to work fast to close the wounds so he could administer the one and only antibiotic hypo he had on hand.  And it wasn’t a very strong one, at that.  Jim was allergic to the good stuff.

He made quick work of the leg wound, needing to make only six stitches.  He covered the newly closed cut with a small square of a gauze-like material Mak’ai had provided and secured it with some adhesive tape she found.  He looked up at Jim’s face.  His eyes were cracked open slightly, revealing a sliver of blue from underneath the lids.  McCoy reached up and gently drew his palm down over them, forcing the lids closed.  His fingers left bloody streaks on Jim’s eyelids and cheeks.  He let his hand hover over Jim’s face for just a moment, relishing in the hot breath that came from his parted lips. 

He knew it was silly, but that breath—that ultimate sign of life—comforted him.  Every exhale from Jim’s lungs meant that he was still alive. 

And McCoy would see to it that he stayed with him.  He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t live without Jim Kirk.

This incident—just one in countless that Jim had found himself in since they met on that damned shuttle—made it very clear to McCoy that Kirk was more than just his friend, his Captain.

_Christ, I need him._

_He makes me smile when no one else can._

_He tells dirty jokes on purpose to shock me.  Which never works because I can out-cuss him any day of the week._

_He sends silly messages directly to my PADD when I’ve had a terrible day._

_He falls asleep on the couch in my quarters._

_He annoys the shit out of me on a daily basis._

_He drinks my good bourbon._

_…He makes my life worth living._

“Doctor?  Are you feeling well enough to continue?” 

McCoy snapped himself from his thoughts, realizing that his hand still hovered over Jim’s face.  He pulled his palm back and re-threaded his needle.  “I’m fine.  Move the cloth so I can get to the wound.”

Spock obeyed, eyeing the doctor suspiciously.  “If you are distracted by something, Doctor, perhaps you should take a short break.  Or allow Mak’ai to finish suturing.  After all, she is a medical student.”

“I said I’m fine!”  McCoy’s hands trembled slightly.  He needed to get his emotions in check.  Jim would have a better chance at survival now that the bullets were out.  He’d be driving McCoy insane again in no time.  Pushing Spock’s hand away, he began to methodically poke the needle through Jim’s battered skin and pull the thread, making neat, even stitches.  Nineteen in all.

He felt the Vulcan watching him, making sure he wasn’t emotionally compromised.  To make sure he didn’t screw up.  But deep down, McCoy knew that he could never bring any harm to Jim, rampant emotions or not.  Spock didn’t need to worry.  Not that he could, anyway. 

When he was finished, he dabbed the oozing abdominal wound with a cloth and began dressing it.  He was pleased that Jim’s belly showed no signs of once again filling with blood.  It was nice and soft, just as it should be.  He taped the gauze over the incision, then used a long piece of cloth to secure the bandage even further, making sure it was tight.

“Lift him for a second so I can get this bandage around his midsection.”  He motioned for Mak’ai to hold Jim’s head.

Spock gently raised the Captain’s torso off the bed, allowing McCoy to slip the bandage underneath and pull the ends up around Jim’s body, fastening it with some pins.  As Spock laid him back down, he groaned quietly.  The doctor quickly ran the Tricorder over him again, the readings showing elevated blood pressure. 

Which meant Jim was in pain.

_Hang on for just another couple of hours, kid.  Then I’ll dope you up again._

He took Jim’s clammy hand in his own bloody one, squeezing tightly.  The Captain’s vitals immediately stabilized at the touch.  He was reluctant to let go, but he needed to finish bandaging his wounds.  He hastily wiped his hands on a discarded bandage.

He moved his attention upwards to Jim’s shoulder.  The bullet hole was smaller than the other two and was hardly bleeding. The slug was embedded deep into the bone of Jim’s shoulder blade, having ripped through the tendons and muscle near his collarbone on the way through.  Kirk would need intensive therapy to regain range of motion in the arm again, not to mention surgery to remove the bullet. 

Using a smaller piece of blue cloth, he covered the wound.  McCoy fashioned a sling with an old curtain and eased it over Jim’s head, bending his arm within the cloth and holding it against his chest.  At least he could ensure that Kirk’s arm would stay relatively immobile until he could treat it properly.

Mak’ai eased herself out from behind Jim, cradling his head as McCoy and Spock gently pulled him back up onto the pillow.  Once he was settled, the doctor pulled a thin blanket over his friend and finally let himself relax.

_Just make it until morning, kid._

_We’re gonna go home and everything will be alright._

Mak’ai’s voice broke the stillness of the quiet room.  “I will make us some traditional Xentian tea.  It helps relieve stress.”

McCoy looked up, his eyes weary.  “Hey, thanks for all your help with Jim.  I don’t know what you were whispering to him, but I’d like to think that it helped.”

She smiled sincerely.  “A Xentian proverb that encourages strength.  Truthfully, it is used to help women through childbirth, but the message is the same across the board.”

“Well, that’ll just have to be our little secret.”  He managed a weak smile in return.  “Thank you.”

Mak’ai bowed her head.  “Anything for a friend.”

_Friend._

_Ya hear that, Jim?  She’s a friend._

“Doctor, if you no longer require my assistance, I will help Mak’ai by making sure the house is secure.”

McCoy couldn’t be sure, but it almost seemed as though Spock knew that he needed some time alone with his thoughts.

And Jim.

“Thanks, Spock.  That’ll be all for right now.”  He emptied the contents of the only antibiotic hypospray he had into Jim’s bloodstream.  Tossing the used device aside, he blew out a long breath and sat down next to Jim with a heavy sigh.  His weight made the mattress dip.  Jim never stirred.

Spock left silently, wiping Kirk’s blood from his hands on a towel.  The door closed behind him, leaving McCoy and Jim alone.  He sat quietly for a moment, hanging his head, feeling the tense muscles of his neck pull under the weight.  His whole back felt as if it were on fire, his hands shaking.

_What the hell’s wrong with you, Leonard?  You’re a doctor for Christ’s sake.  You’re used to this._

He looked over his shoulder at Jim.  His face was lax, all evidence of any sort of distress having melted away when he floated into the void of unconscious oblivion.  Lying there, on the bed of an alien on a strange planet, he looked so fragile.  McCoy knew that his life was still in considerable danger, both from blood loss and infection. 

Not to mention Ka’al’s men were looking for them.

McCoy could feel the familiar, yet unwelcomed sting of moisture in his eyes.  His breathing became erratic as sobs threatened to come up from his chest.  But, he wouldn’t let himself break.  He needed to be strong.

For Jim.

For himself.

_For them._

He slid off the bed and knelt next to Kirk’s head.  He retrieved a cloth from the side table and dipped it in a bowl of cool water.  Gently, he wiped the blood—both fresh and dried-- from Jim’s face and neck.  The thrum of his heart, fast but strong, was visible on his throat.  McCoy stared at the rise and fall of the skin with every beat, mesmerized. 

In that moment, everything that had happened in the last several hours overtook him.  All his senses and emotions went into overdrive.  He couldn’t stop the deluge.  The bloodied cloth dropped from his hands onto the stone floor as he pressed his forehead against Jim’s face. 

Leonard McCoy cried.

And Jim slept.


	7. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Seven

Caught in the Crossfire:   Chapter Seven

_First Officer’s Log, Stardate 2258.207:  We have been stranded on the planet Xentia for nine point three hours.  The condition of Captain Kirk has remained critical, but stable.  Doctor McCoy has successfully removed two of the three projectiles from wounds the Captain sustained during a firefight.  The third bullet is lodged in his shoulder blade and will require surgery aboard the Enterprise upon arrival.  A native Xentian named Mak’ai has opened her home to us for use in stabilizing and treating the Captain, as well as a place of refuge.  As of this moment, Ka’al’s men have not found us, but both Doctor McCoy and Mak’ai believe it is just a matter of time before they do so.  The Doctor is hopeful that Captain Kirk’s condition will improve enough to be able to move him to a safe transport location by sunrise._

_The state of the government is unclear.  The resistance leader known as Ka’al has taken control of the capitol building and killed many members of the governmental elite, including Shaman Luuk-ti.  It is logical to assume that he intends to radically alter the course and ideals of the previous ruling party in favor of his own views.  Luuk-ti alluded to the fact that Ka’al was very resistant to any outside influences on Xentian culture and viewed Starfleet and the Federation as enemies.  The carnage we witnessed during our escape from Ka’al’s men and the chaos that followed makes it apparent that Luuk-ti’s assumptions were correct: the people and heritage of Xentia are in great danger should Ka’al remain in power._

_I do not doubt that the Federation will see the attack on Captain Kirk, the destruction of our shuttlecraft and the coup itself as more than enough evidence to deny the Xentians entry into Starfleet.  Logically, it should be seen as a declaration of war; however, it shall remain to be seen if the Federation ultimately decides to travel that path.  End log._

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

When Spock entered the small bedroom again, he found McCoy kneeling on the floor next to the bed. His head rested on Kirk’s pillow, and his fingers were curled in the younger man’s hair.  His other hand rested on the Captain’s arm, which was nestled in the makeshift sling.  The Vulcan cleared his throat.  The doctor’s eyes shot open and his head snapped up off of the pillow with a jolt. 

“If you are tired, Doctor, may I suggest the bed in the other room?  Or perhaps the couch?”

McCoy stood, rocking his neck back and forth to pop it.  “I’m fine, Spock.  I wasn’t asleep.  Just restin’ my eyes.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Of course, Doctor.”  He approached the bed.  “What is the current condition of Captain Kirk?”

McCoy sighed and looked down at Jim, who was covered to mid-chest with a blanket.  His skin was pale and mottled with bruises from Spock’s mighty grip.  His breathing was consistent and slow, no longer shuddering his whole body when he gasped. Jim’s eyes fluttered under the lids, no longer stained with blood.

He looked at peace.

“Well, he’s no longer bleeding internally, so I’m calling it a win.  He’s weak though.”  McCoy grabbed the Tricorder and scanned Kirk.  “Blood pressure’s on the low side, heart rate is still faster than I’d like and his fever’s getting worse.  The Tricorder can’t tell me for sure, but I’m willing to bet he’s got a nasty infection brewing.”

Spock moved closer to the bed, and reached across Jim’s body as McCoy handed him the Tricorder.  “It appears his heart is struggling, Doctor.”

McCoy scowled.  “From the fever.  One-hundred and three-point-seven is getting into the danger zone.  His heart’s having trouble keeping up.” 

_Dammit, Jim.  Why’d you have to be allergic to the good antibiotics?_

“He’s probably gonna be delirious when he wakes up, too.”

“Is he stable enough to move to the extraction zone?  Ka’al’s men are no doubt looking for us.  The sooner we leave the city, the better chance we have of avoiding them.  Preferably before sunrise.”

McCoy shook his head.  “We can’t move him yet.  This fever needs to be lower first.  Plus, his body just went through major trauma.  If we move him without a few hours’ rest—at least—he could start hemorrhaging again, or tear stitches.”

Spock nodded in agreement.  “That is logical, Doctor.”

McCoy accepted the instrument back, setting it on the night table.  “Give me a few hours to get this fever under control.  The sun won’t be up yet and we’ll be able to move while it’s still dark.”

Jim stirred, grimacing as his weight shifted.  McCoy adjusted the pillow under his head, as well as the one he had used to keep his shoulder elevated.  Kirk immediately relaxed with McCoy’s touch.

“It would seem as though he is responding positively to contact from you, Doctor.”

McCoy smiled, almost unnoticeably.  “Yeah, been happenin’ since our days at the Academy.  I guess I calm him. Although I don’t know why…he annoys the shit out of me.” 

The door opened and Mak’ai entered, a tray of steaming mugs perched on her clawed hands.  “The tea is ready.  Mister Spock, Doctor McCoy?  Would you care for some?”  She set the tray on the dresser.  “We can drink in the other room if you’d like to sit, or perhaps let your Captain rest quietly.”

McCoy grabbed a cup.  “Thanks, but no.  I need to stick close to him right now.  He’s got a fever.”

Mak’ai’s face grew concerned. “Fever?  That is dangerous for humans, isn’t it?” 

“It can be.  And his is getting up there.”  He sipped the tea.  “You see, our wonderful Captain Kirk here is allergic to most of the antibiotics available to me.  He’s always making things difficult.”

“Do you fear the fever will do damage?”  Mak’ai handed a mug of tea to Spock.

“Dunno yet.  If it doesn’t go down…”  McCoy trailed off, sipping his tea again.  He moved to the side of the bed, sitting next to Jim.  Kirk turned his head towards the sound of McCoy’s voice, but never opened his eyes.  The Doctor reached out and patted Jim’s hand.

Spock joined him, seating himself on the end of the bed next to Jim’s feet, which had been covered by a thin blanket.  Mak’ai chose the cool stone floor, crossing her long reptilian legs underneath her lithe body. 

“Mak’ai, may I ask you about the resistance movement?” 

She nodded. “Of course, Mister Spock.  I think I owe you that much.  Ask anything you like and I will try to do my best.”

“Shaman Luuk-ti alluded to the fact that they did not believe the Graz’ Kuul-ai to be anything more than hooligans that would never become violent.  What do you believe happened to make them change so abruptly?”

Mak’ai snorted and shook her head.  “Luuk-ti was a good man, but so very naïve in his assumptions about the Graz’ Kuul-ai.  The entire governmental body took for granted their peaceful ways.  They didn’t want to believe that such a power existed in their ‘utopian’ society.”  She set her mug down on the floor and clasped her hands in her lap.  “They had a veil over their eyes.  They didn’t want to see what was happening right under their noses, so they chose to ignore Ka’al.  The Graz’ Kuul-ai never changed anything about their thinking.  They were always going to attack the seat of power.  Luuk-ti was just ignorant.  That was their biggest mistake, and now all of Xentia will pay dearly.”

“Why do you believe the people allowed this obliviousness to go on?  I was under the assumption that your society is democratic in government.  If the Xentians knew that the Graz’ Kuul-ai posed a bigger threat than previously believed, it would be logical to assume that they would at least have some sort of say in how the governing body proceeded to deal with Ka’al.”

Mak’ai sighed heavily.  “The simple truth is that Luuk-ti and his cabinet lied to the people.  They made it seem like everything was alright, and that the Graz’ Kuul-ai weren’t a threat.  And the people believed them.  I mean, why wouldn’t they?  The Shaman had never given us any reason to doubt him in the past.”

McCoy scowled.  “Sounds like Luuk-ti was the wrong guy for the job.  And now look what’s happened.” He looked at Jim, pressing a finger to his neck to check his pulse.  “Not only is your planet in ruins, but the Federation’s not gonna be happy that Ka’al attacked their golden boy.”

“’Golden…boy?’”  Mak’ai looked confused.

“A human term, Mak’ai.  It refers to a man who is unusually successful at a young age.”  Spock looked to McCoy, who managed a faint smile.  “James T. Kirk is the youngest in Starfleet history to achieve the rank of Captain.  At only age twenty-five he has already received numerous commendations and awards, as well as having been awarded command of the Enterprise, the Federation flagship.”

Mak’ai’s eyes lit up at the mention of the ship.  “I would love to see your starship one day, Mister Spock.”

Spock said nothing.

McCoy chimed in.  “You seem to have quite the fervent opinion about the Graz’ Kuul-ai for a medical student.”

Mak’ai’s expression softened.  “You are very observant, Doctor.  My family has a connection to them that we are not proud of.”

Spock and McCoy exchanged glances.  McCoy’s was one of worry, Spock’s intrigue.

“My younger brother, Amari, was drawn in by Ka’al and his promises of supremacy.”  She hung her head.  “Ka’al killed him last year to show dominance.  That man is nothing but a coward, preying on the weak-minded and easily swayed.”

“I’m sorry, Mak’ai.”  McCoy’s shoulders sagged.

“Please don’t be, Doctor.  You didn’t know.” She raised her mug to her lips, drinking slowly.  “Amari had always been ‘different.’  Some people even classified him as mentally slow.  I liked to think that he was just cut from a different cloth than everyone else.  He was a follower, and constantly needed someone to show him the way in life.”  She shook her head solemnly.  “Unfortunately, after our parents died, Ka’al was the one who drew him in, promising power, riches and everything Amari could ever wish for.”

“Sounds like Ka’al knew who to target.”

“You are so very correct, Doctor.  Ka’al relies on recruits who won’t challenge him, who will blindly obey his orders.  My brother was perfect.”  A tear slipped from her eye, her glow changing from a pale blue to yellow.  “Ka’al needed someone to use as an example of his authority.  He lied about my brother committing a crime within their collective and executed him with his bare hands.  All to scare the others into submission.”

“What a bastard.”  McCoy drained the last of his tea. 

“Indeed, Doctor McCoy.  I tried to protect Amari, to pull him away from the Graz’ Kuul-ai.  But Ka’al’s influence is too strong, especially among the young.  I will always bear the guilt of my brother’s death.  I couldn’t protect him.  I only hope that I can do something to help the people who will ultimately suffer now that Ka’al has taken power.”

Spock stood, setting his mug on the night table beside the bed.  He clasped his hand behind his back.  “Mak’ai, what do you believe Ka’al’s next move will be?”

“He won’t stop until everything that made Xentia what it once was is destroyed.  He has no interest in culture, art or knowledge.  Only war and violence.”  She squared her jaw and her voice became low and growling.  “The Xentian people are doomed.  Ka’al will destroy everything our people have worked centuries to achieve.  The government has already fallen to him, and it’s just a matter of time before he obliterates everything that has made our people great.  He will burn down the schools, devastate the libraries and make sure that no one learns anything he doesn’t want them to.  Xentian children will no longer learn of art and history, but war and weapons.”  She looked Spock in the eyes.  “He will teach them to hate the Federation.”

“That’s all we need, another enemy.”  McCoy furrowed his brows.

Mak’ai shifted on the floor, leaning back on her hands.  “I know the Federation will not accept our application for entry now, but Xentia desperately needs help.  Ka’al is dangerous.  He will find the scourge of the galaxy and ally with them.”

Spock pulled back the curtains on the small window, peering outside.  “While it is true that Xentia will more than likely be denied entry into the Federation at this time, it does not necessarily mean that all hope is lost.  Violence and cruelty against innocents is behavior that is not tolerated, membership in the Federation or not.”  He moved away from the window and faced Mak’ai.  “Xentia will not be abandoned.”

Mak’ai smiled.  “Thank you, Mister Spock.”

“There is no need to thank me.  I will not be responsible for Starfleet’s ultimate decision, although I am confident the councils will ask for our logs and any other pertinent information and or opinions when they convene.”

Jim groaned, turning everyone’s attention to him.  His free hand clenched into a fist, his breaths becoming hitched.  McCoy immediately ran a Tricorder scan.

“Dammit.  Temp’s up to one-hundred-four-point-one.  I think he’s having fever dreams.”

Mak’ai cocked her head.  “Fever dreams?”

“Yeah.  Humans tend to get disoriented and incoherent when their body temperatures get too high.  It messes with the brain.”  McCoy gestured to his own head, fingers wiggling.

Mak’ai nodded.  “Ah, yes.  I remember from my studies.  Is there a possibility of seizure?”

McCoy pursed his lips, and his voice came out as a low whisper.  “Yes.”  He put the back of his hand against Kirk’s sweaty forehead. 

“Doctor, perhaps a fever-reducing medication would be in order?” Spock offered.

McCoy rolled his eyes.  “Dontcha think I already tried that?  The pain meds also have acetaminophen in them.  I can’t give him any more right no-“

Loud yelling came from out in the street, causing McCoy to stop himself.  Mak’ai scrambled to her feet and pushed her hands outwards in front of her, gesturing for the two men to stay put.  “I will check and see what the commotion is.  Stay here.”  She ran out of the room.

Seconds later, she returned, a frightened look on her face.  “Hurry!  You must hide!”  She ran to the bed and gathered up all the blood-stained towels and bandages.  She tossed them into a dresser drawer.  “Druk’laan and his men are coming!”

McCoy panicked.  “How in the hell am I supposed to hide him?”  He motioned to Jim.  “He’s in critical condition!”

Mak’ai began carefully lifting Jim’s head.  “Lift him and hide under the bed!  The blankets will cover any trace of you.”  Spock put his hands under Kirk, cautiously boosting his limp body.  McCoy reached one arm up and cradled Jim’s head and grabbed his Med Kit with the other as Mak’ai let go to raise the bed skirt.  Spock knelt and gently slipped Jim under the bed.  His head lolled to the side, eyes fluttering open for a moment.  A faint moan escaped his lips.

McCoy followed, scooting in beside Kirk.  He lay on his side, facing his friend.  He heard Mak’ai’s frightened voice as she hastily pulled a heavy blanket over the blood-stained sheets.  “Mister Spock, into the closet!”  The doctor could see Spock’s boots as he hurried towards the door near the corner, disappearing into the closet just as pounding knocks rattled the front door.

He whispered into Jim’s ear.  “Dunno if you can hear me or not, Jim.  But you gotta shut the hell up, got it?  No noise or they’ll find us.”  He listened intently as he heard Mak’ai open the door.

_“Druk’laan.  What do you want?”_

There was instantly a scuffle as three armed men pushed themselves inside the small house.  A booming voice filled the air.

_“Starfleet, of course.  You work in the capitol building, don’t you?”_

Mak’ai’s voice was strong and stern.  _“Yes.  But I don’t know what that has to do with Starfleet.  I’ve been home all night.  Alone.”_

McCoy could barely see out from underneath the bed.  The door to the bedroom had been left open, and as Mak’ai backed away from Druk’laan’s advances, she became visible.  The giant reptile was attempting to caress her cheek, his long tongue slipping between his teeth and licking his lips.

_“I could keep you company, my love.  You and I wouldn’t have to be alone tonight.”_

Mak’ai scowled and moved further away from him, her voice hissing loudly.

_“Don’t touch me.  Search the house if you want, but I assure you Starfleet is not here.”_

Druk’laan snorted.  _“You’ll never get the chance again to have me.  You’re beautiful…I could make you a princess in the new kingdom Master Ka’al is creating.”_

Mak’ai stood her ground.  _“Just look around and leave.”_

_“You’re a feisty one.”_ Druk’laan turned to one of his men.  _“You, check in that bedroom.  I have this young lady to deal with.”_

McCoy heard a muffled scream as Druk’laan swiftly put his hand over Mak’ai’s mouth and pushed her out of view.  He prayed she wouldn’t be hurt. 

A soldier stomped into the room and approached the bed.  He moved forward, stopping just inches from McCoy and Kirk.  The sound of hissing filled the air as the soldier sniffed. 

_Jesus, it smells like blood in here._

_Blood._

_Goddammit._

McCoy panicked.  Just to his left, inches from the soldier’s feet, was a bloody rag half-pushed underneath the nightstand.  If the thug looked down, it would mean disaster.

He held his breath.

Jim stirred slightly and McCoy quickly wrapped his leg around Jim’s to thwart his movement.  The heat radiating off of Kirk was incredible.  Before the young man could groan, McCoy clapped his hand over Kirk’s mouth. 

The warrior tapped his boot, dust from the floor puffing up and into the air.  McCoy had to stifle a sneeze.  Jim wriggled his legs underneath McCoy’s and began to roll his head from side to side. 

_Not now, Jim!_

McCoy held his palm tightly over Kirk’s mouth and reached over Jim’s body to grab his free hand.  He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

_C’mon, kid.  Just hang on for a few more minutes and those bastards will leave._

Jim calmed noticeably at McCoy’s touch once again. The doctor sighed internally as he felt the body next to him relax.  He turned his head back to the soldier’s boot.  He watched intently as the man moved away from the bed, his heavy shoes clunking on the stone floor.  He moved towards the closet where Spock was hidden, but never bothered to open the door.

_Thank God he’s a lazy son of a bitch._

After a long moment, the soldier left the room, reporting on his findings.

_“Nothing, Master Druk’laan.”_

McCoy heard a grunt from the front room, followed by a thud, like someone had fallen.  Druk’laan’s baritone voice echoed once again.

_“They’re not here.  You two take whatever you want from the kitchen and grab those crystal goblets on the shelf.  A tribute for Ka’al.  As for you,”_ he addressed Mak’ai.  _“Keep your door open for me.  I’ll be back to finish what I started.”_ He laughed, his threatening tone all too apparent. 

The soldiers left, Druk’laan hot on their heels.  Mak’ai quickly bolted the door and ran into the bedroom.

“Doctor McCoy!”  Her voice was hushed as she knelt and lifted the bed skirt.  As she leaned over to peer under the bed, bright orange blood dripped from her nose.  A bruise was already forming under her right eye, and her thin lower lip was beginning to swell.

She had been beaten.

“Christ, what happened to you?”  McCoy began to scoot out from underneath the bed as Spock opened the closet door.

“I’m fine, Doctor.  Druk’laan just wanted to assert his dominance.”  She wiped her nose with her sleeve.  “Let me help you with Kirk.”

McCoy knelt and turned back to ease Jim out.  He came face-to-face with the worst case scenario. 

Jim’s body was rigid, bloody foam coming from his mouth.  His eyes had rolled back into his head and his hands were clenched into tight fists.  As McCoy went to grab him, Kirk’s entire body began to shake.  He yanked him out from underneath the bed, not caring whether or not he dislocated an already injured shoulder.

“Shit!  He’s seizing!” 

 


	8. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Eight

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Eight

                “Help me get him out from under there!”  McCoy’s tone was commanding and strong.  He and Mak’ai dragged Kirk out from underneath the bed and the doctor immediately turned Jim’s head to the side, allowing the foam to drip from the corner of his mouth.  Jim’s entire body shook, his back arching and his heels digging into the floor.

_Dammit, Jim!  This is a complication you do not need right now!_

McCoy started giving orders, all while gripping Jim’s chest firmly but carefully.  “Mak’ai!  Hold his head to the side so he doesn’t choke.  And Spock, grab me the hypo that says ‘Lorazepam’.”  He leaned in and yelled directly into Kirk’s ear.  “You are _not_ doing this right now, you hear me, kid?”

Kirk convulsed violently under McCoy’s hands, his body scorching with fever.  A gravelly moan came from his throat, the blood-tinged foam bubbling up and over his lips.  McCoy figured Jim must have bitten the inside of his mouth or possibly his tongue when the seizure started.

Spock pressed the hypospray into the Doctor’s hand and he immediately sent the medication into Jim’s system.  Within seconds, the seizure had stopped, Kirk’s body becoming flaccid and sinking back to the floor.  His eyes remained opened halfway, staring up at the ceiling.  McCoy retrieved his pen light from his pants pocket and shone it into Jim’s eyes.  His pupils immediately contracted.

_Good, you didn’t fry your brain._

_Yet._

_Gotta get this damn fever down._

The trio carefully lifted Kirk back onto the bed, laying him directly on top of the blanket.  Mak’ai slid the pillow under his head, then used a clean cloth to wipe away the froth that had accumulated on his lips and chin. 

“Doctor, that was a Grand Mal seizure, was it not?”  Mak’ai placed her hand on Kirk’s sweat-drenched brow.  “Brought on by the fever?”

McCoy nodded, removing the bandage around Kirk’s midsection to get a better look at the wound.  “Yes.  You must’ve studied hard.”  He lifted the gauze and inspected his handiwork.  The stitches were still intact, even after Jim’s thrashing.  He replaced the cloth and began pulling the long bandage tight once more.

Spock assisted, rolling Kirk onto his right side to allow McCoy to tug the cloth snug.  “Has the Captain’s brain been damaged, Doctor?”

McCoy scowled.  “I don’t know yet.  His eyes reacted to light, but his fever’s way too damn high.  If I don’t reduce it in the next thirty-or-so minutes, his brain’ll cook.” 

Jim’s bare chest was covered in sweat droplets, his hair drenched.  Raspy breaths wracked his body as his heart and lungs struggled against the massive heat of the fever.  McCoy scanned him with the Tricorder. 

“Goddammit, he’s on fire!  One-hundred-five-point-three.”  McCoy grabbed a scissors from the Med Kit, which he used to cut the remaining pant leg up the middle, then through the waistband.  “Lift his ass, Spock, so I can get these pants off of him.  We need to cool him down.”

The First Officer did as he was told, and McCoy removed the tattered remains of Jim’s pants with ease.  He scowled as he saw the Federation-issue boxers.  He knew those would have to come off too, if he wanted to cool Kirk off in a hurry.

“Uh, Mak’ai?  I’m gonna have to strip him…you okay with that?” 

She nodded.  “Do whatever you need to do to take care of him, Doctor.  Don’t worry about offending me.”   She looked to Kirk.  “How will he feel about it?”

McCoy snorted.  “Believe me; he’ll think it’s funny.  He’s not very modest.”  He quickly removed Jim’s boots and socks, then Spock lifted Kirk’s body once again.  McCoy slipped the undergarment off, leaving Kirk exposed.  The doctor hastily tossed a towel over Jim’s groin. “Mak’ai, I’m going to need ice.  Lots of it.  Is that something you have on hand?”

She frowned.  “I’m afraid not, Doctor.  But my neighbor has an icehouse, and I’m sure he’d be willing to help.  He hates Ka’al as much as I do.”

“Are you certain your friend can be trusted?”  Spock raised an eyebrow.  “We are already in great danger.”

Mak’ai nodded.  “I would bet my life on it.  He is a compassionate man, and always willing to help a friend in need.”

Spock pursed his lips.  “Very well, then.  Doctor, I will accompany Mak’ai.”

McCoy wiped Jim’s sweaty neck and chest.  “Hurry.  And for Christ’s sake, be careful.”  He turned his attention back to Kirk as they left.  Jim had begun moaning incoherently, his brows knitted together.

“…chasing me…h-help…”

McCoy knelt next to Kirk, leaning in close to his ear.  “Jim.  You’re dreaming.  Nothin’s coming after you.”

Kirk shook his head, his eyes fluttering open for just a second before closing again.  “No…don’ wanna go…” His breathing was becoming erratic.  McCoy was concerned he would hyperventilate.  “…gotta hide…Kodos…”

McCoy’s stomach churned.  Jim was hallucinating about Tarsus.  He pressed his forehead against Jim’s blazing cheek and began to soothe.  “Kodos isn’t here, Jim.  You’re safe with me.”

Kirk stilled.  “Bones?”

McCoy quickly raised his head, meeting Jim’s half-lidded eyes.  He wasn’t sure if Kirk was completely lucid.  He smiled compassionately.  “Right here, kid.”

Kirk groggily turned his head to look at McCoy with bloodshot eyes.  “…’M hot.”

“I know, Jim.  You’ve got an extremely high fever.”  He watched as Jim’s eyes seemed to lose their focus on his face, the lids blinking lethargically.  “Mak’ai’s getting some ice.  I’ve got to bring your fever down the old-fashioned way.”

Kirk swallowed hard.  “…stomach hurts…”

McCoy looked down at the bandages covering Jim’s abdomen.  “You’re stitched up pretty good down there.  I’ll give you some more drugs soon, I promise.”  He glanced at his chronometer.  Jim could have more pain meds in ten minutes.

“…need to tell you somethin’…”  Jim exhaled deeply, his chest shuddering.  “…in case…I don’t…make…”

McCoy felt heat flash over his face.  He wasn’t sure if it was from his own anxiety or Jim’s radiating temperature.   “C’mon now, Jim.  Don’t talk like that.”  He covertly scanned him again.  One-hundred-five-point-five.  “We’ll be back on the ship before sunrise and you’ll be flirtin’ with all the nurses by oh-nine-thirty.”

Jim shook his head.  “Don’t wanna…flirt with nurses…anymore.”  He whimpered as he tried to shift his weight towards McCoy.  “Bones…I’m s-so sorry.  For…everything.”

“Dammit, Jim.  You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

Kirk stared at something just behind McCoy and to the side.  “I keep screwin’ things up.”  He licked his dry lips, his voice just above a whisper.  “…s’not supposed to be like this.  You keep…fixin’ me up and I…I run right back out there…every…time…”   His eyes closed.

“Jim?”  McCoy pressed his index finger to the vein in Kirk’s neck.  The pressure caused the Captain to lazily open his eyes once more.  “Now you listen to me, James Kirk.  While it’s true that you always manage to find yourself in the worst possible situation, you also always manage to survive it.”  He sighed heavily.  “I’m just glad it’s me to save your ass and not some incompetent boob.  So it _is_ supposed to be this way.”

Kirk’s eyelids drooped in a slow blink, cerulean irises disappearing for longer than McCoy would have wanted.  “You r’member…the day we met?” 

McCoy snorted. “How could I forget?  You drained my flask, I vomited on you.”

Jim managed a weak smile.  “…Best day…of m’life.”  A small moan escaped his lips, eyes rolling back for a moment.  “No one’s ever…cared about me…like you, Bones.”

McCoy’s chest felt heavy as he watched Jim struggle to talk. “Yeah, well, you’re a unique individual.  I don’t know if many could put up with you like I can.” 

“All those nights at th’cademy…when you patched me up…y’didn’t have to.”  Jim coughed, his face immediately contorting with pain.  It took him a moment to catch his breath.  “…I don’ deserve you, Bones.”

_Of course you do, kid._

_You’ve been dealt the shittiest cards in life…and mine haven’t been much better…_

_No one should have to deal with us but…us._

Kirk kept talking, his voice faint and breathy.  “I know that I…drive you nuts.  But, I’m not…doin’ it to p’rposely piss you off…I jus’…”  He trailed off, eyes closing wearily.

_It’s just who you are._

_I know I yell at you and huff and puff like I’m mad, but…_

_…I wouldn’t want it any other way._

McCoy looked at his chronometer again.  Spock and Mak’ai would be returning any minute with the ice.  He knew he needed to keep Jim calm, so the fever didn’t rise as quickly.  “You do too do it on purpose, you little bastard.  I know you like seein’ me squirm.”

Kirk smiled feebly, eyes still shut.  “Yeah, okay…you got me.”  He lay quietly for a moment, McCoy listening to every raspy breath that escaped his lungs. 

_Where the hell are they?_

_I need that ice._

_Now._

McCoy hated it when Jim was quiet.  James Kirk was always loud, animated and the center of attention.  Looking at him now, struggling to draw each breath into his battered body, sweating through the thin sheets underneath him and dangerously low on blood—McCoy didn’t want to admit it, but it scared him to death. 

“Jim?”  McCoy wiped the sweat from Kirk’s brow with a cool cloth.  “You’ve gotta stay with me, alright?”

Kirk didn’t respond. 

More force in his voice this time, McCoy gently shook the younger man’s uninjured shoulder.  “Jim!  Open your eyes!”

A pained groan came from Kirk’s throat, and his eyes reluctantly cracked open.  “…so tired, Bones.”  McCoy breathed a sigh of relief at the sound, albeit frail, of Jim’s voice.  “Gotta tell you…”

“Shhh, Jim.  You’ll have plenty of time to tell me anything you want when you’re back in Sick Bay.  Just save your strength.”

Kirk shook his head and reached his right arm over his body, palm outstretched.  McCoy took Jim’s burning hand in his own.  He could barely hear Kirk’s voice.  “…Love you, Bones.  ‘Have since…the ‘cademy.”  His eyes were having trouble focusing on McCoy’s face. 

McCoy felt the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes.  He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

_Sweet Jesus._

_He loves me._

_Me?_

_Why?_

_Gotta be the fever talking…_

_Or…_

McCoy didn’t know how to respond.  Here he was, listening as Jim bared his soul to him, and he was too afraid to reciprocate. 

_Dammit, man!  Tell him!_

_This might be…_

_…your only chance._

McCoy kept his eyes trained on Jim’s face.  His cheeks were still flushed crimson with fever, his pupils dilated to almost take over his entire eye.  He tried desperately to push down the feeling of dread that had been creeping up from the pit of his stomach.  Jim was too weak, and if this fever didn’t get reduced soon, he might not have the chance to let Kirk know how he felt.  He tried to convince himself that Kirk wasn’t in his right mind, that the fever was making him groggy and incoherent.

_There’s no reason that he should love me like I love him._

_Christ._

_I…_

_…love him._

“Jim, I…”  He rooted around in his Med Kit for the only remaining pain-killing hypospray.  “…I’m gonna give you some more pain meds.”  McCoy pressed the hypo into Kirk’s neck with the gentlest touch he had ever used.

“…y’always take care…f’me…Bones…”  Jim’s words were slurring as the medication took hold of him.  His eyes glassed over and his eyelids drooped, leaving slivers of blue staring out from the cracks, and McCoy knew Kirk couldn’t see him anymore.

“I take care of you because I love you too.”  He didn’t know if Jim had heard him.  His shoulders sagged as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

A noise at the door startled him, and he turned to see Spock staring at him silently, a bowl of ice in each hand.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Kirk shivered. 

The ice packs that McCoy and Spock had made were crowded around Jim’s naked body.  Mak’ai had given them some plastic bags and they methodically filled them with crushed ice and placed them at strategic areas around Kirk.  McCoy had worked swiftly, placing the first ones around Jim’s groin, so the large veins there could carry chilled blood around his body to reduce the fever.  More were positioned under his arms and around his head and neck.  All in close proximity to important veins.

The last of the bags were laid around Kirk, like a cocoon.  The ice crackled and popped as the heat from Jim’s body melted it. 

“When do you believe the Captain’s fever will be reduced, Doctor?”  Spock dried his hands on a towel. 

Re-positioning the ice packs around Kirk’s neck, McCoy responded, “An least an hour, maybe two.  _If_ this actually works.”  He crossed his arms over his chest.  “We just have to wait.”

 Kirk opened his eyes momentarily at the sound of McCoy’s voice, before groaning and allowing them to flutter shut.  His brows furrowed.  “…can’t get away…gotta hide…”

Spock cocked his head.  “Doctor, it would appear that the Captain is hallucinating.”

McCoy scowled.  “Of course he is, dammit.  His fever’s short-circuiting his brain.”

“…Kodos coming…gotta save…”

Mak’ai looked puzzled.  “Who is Kodos?”  She approached Jim and rubbed his calf in an attempt to soothe.  Kirk’s leg muscles immediately stiffened at the touch, and Mak’ai retracted her hand. 

McCoy sighed and looked at Kirk with a sympathetic glance.   “When he was a kid, he lived in a colony called Tarsus.  Some nasty stuff happened…Jim barely survived.”  He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he wanted to continue.  The memories were painful, even for him.  And he hadn’t even been there.  “Kodos was the governor.  There was a famine and he decided that methodically killing half the population would ensure the survival of the rest.”

Mak’ai brought a clawed hand to her mouth in horror.  “Genocide.”  Her voice was quiet.

McCoy nodded.  “I can’t even begin to imagine the shit he’s seen.”

Jim’s breathing was raspy as his body shivered.  “…please don’ let him…help me, Bones…”

McCoy knelt near Jim’s head, leaning in close to his ear.  “I’m right here, Jim.  You’re not on Tarsus.  You’re never going back there.”

Kirk shook his head and whimpered.  “Gotta get out…Enterprise…back there…”

“Doctor, is it normal for delusions to change scene like that?”  Mak’ai studied Kirk closely.

“Yeah.  The human brain is a weird thing; I don’t know what the hell’s going on in one even when it’s lucid.”  He soothingly ran this thumb over the crest of Jim’s ear.  “When the fever breaks, this should stop.  I hope.”

Spock stood stoically, hands clasped tightly behind his back.  “Doctor McCoy, I understand the need to reduce the Captain’s fever more before attempting to move him; however may I remind you that the sun will be rising in five-point-seven hours.  Time is of the essence.  We must move soon.”

McCoy stood and glared at Spock.  “Don’t you think I know that?  I want to get off this damn planet just as much as you do.”  He turned to Mak’ai.  “No offense intended, Mak’ai.”

She shook her head.  “None taken.  I agree with your sentiment.” 

“Jim’s still critical, Spock.  I can’t in good conscience move him yet.  It’s too risky.”

Spock exhaled deeply.  “I agree that Captain Kirk is too weak, I was merely reminding you of our time constraints.”

McCoy responded through pursed lips.  “Yeah, well, thanks. I guess.” 

Jim continued to moan on the bed, his entire body quaking under the immense cold of the ice.  His lips were beginning to turn blue, as were his fingertips and toes.

Mak’ai offered a distraction.  “Perhaps I could make us something to eat?  I’m sure it’s been hours since you’ve had anything.” 

McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache threatening to rise at any moment.  “You don’t have to do that, Mak’ai.  We’ve already overstayed our welcome.” 

She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist.  “Nonsense.  I will prepare something simple.  You need to regain your strength if you are to save your Captain.”  She exited the room quietly.

“Doctor, might I suggest you rest?  We are going to be physically exerting ourselves in a few hours’ time as we attempt to leave.”  Spock eyed McCoy.

The doctor shook his head.  “I’m not leaving him, Spock.  Why don’t you go help our gracious hostess so I can examine him again.”

“Very well.” 

Spock left, leaving McCoy alone with Jim once more.  Small whimpers came from Kirk’s mouth, his face grimacing.  McCoy adjusted the ice packs, then scanned him with the Tricorder.

_Fever’s going down, Jim._

_Keep fighting._

McCoy spied a comfortable-looking plush chair against the side wall.  His body ached, legs felt as if they if they would give out at any moment.  He knew he needed to sit down before he fell down.  He dragged the chair next to the bed and let his body sink into the cushy chair.  He blew out a long breath and put his feet up on the edge of the mattress. 

His eyelids began to betray him and there was nothing he could do to stop them from closing.

Even with Kirk’s constant and loud shivering, he couldn’t fight the battle against sleep.  McCoy finally slipped into oblivion.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Doctor McCoy?”

_Go away._

_McCoy’s not here._

“Doctor?” 

He felt pressure on his shoulder, followed by a small shake.  He scowled in his sleep before reluctantly cracking right eye open.  Mak’ai stood before him, a steaming bowl in her hand.

His consciousness fully back to him, he startled awake, remembering where he was.  He turned his head to look at Kirk, his cheeks no longer flushed with fever.

McCoy rubbed his eyes.  “How long was I asleep?”  He accepted the dish and inhaled the aroma wafting up.

“Just over an hour.”  She offered a sympathetic smile.  “You obviously needed it.”

McCoy weakly smiled.  “Guess so.  Thanks for the…what is this?”  He lifted the spoon and sniffed the contents before sampling.  “Hey, not bad.”

“Vegetable stew, with produce from my garden.”  Mak’ai smiled proudly.  “I’m glad you like it.” 

McCoy ate another bite.  “Where’s Spock?”

“In the front room.  He is busy with his portable computing device.  He seemed…reluctant to allow me to see it.”

McCoy snorted.  “Yeah, he’s a stickler for rules.  Y’see, the Federation has a decree called the ‘Prime Directive.’  It’s basically a ‘don’t you dare show alien species our technology until they’re advanced enough’ rule.”  He savored another spoonful.  “I think we’re way past that now, though.  So he can stick it up his Vulcan ass.”

Mak’ai eyed McCoy suspiciously.  “I am not entirely familiar with human slang, but I am fairly certain that you think Mister Spock can ‘go to Hell?’”

McCoy let out a guffaw.  It felt good to laugh again.  “Pretty much.”  He raised the bowl in front of his face.  “Thanks again, this really hit the spot.”

“It was my pleasure, Doctor McCoy.”

“Leonard.  You can call me Leonard.” 

Mak’ai’s eyes twinkled.  “Very well, Leonard.”  She approached Kirk, placing a hand on his exposed chest.  “His skin is much cooler.  It appears the fever has gone down considerably.”

McCoy placed the bowl on the nightstand and scanned Kirk.  One-hundred-point-six.    “Yeah, sometimes all the best technology is no match for good old-fashioned home remedies.”  He began to remove the melting ice packs from around Kirk’s head and neck.  “My Granny used to use this trick when we got sick.  Or when we were just too damn hot in the summer.”

Mak’ai assisted, lifting the ice from Kirk’s groin and gently placing a towel over the area, to cover him.  “Is it hot where you come from?”

McCoy grunted, tossing the used ice into a bowl beside the bed.  “Hot and humid.  I love it.  It’s called Georgia.  My family has a big ‘ol house on tons of land.”  He sighed.  “I miss it.”

Mak’ai placed a hand on his shoulder.  “I would love to see Earth one day.  Who knows?  Maybe you’ll even show me this ‘Georgia?’”  As McCoy lifted the last pack of ice from Kirk’s body, she pulled a clean, thin blanket over him, covering him to mid-chest.

“Hopefully that can be arranged.”  McCoy manually checked Kirk’s pulse.  “He’s a lot more stable.  I think we’re gonna be able to get out of your hair soon.”

Mak’ai chucked, running her hand over the row of spines atop her head.  “’Out of my hair?’  In case you haven’t noticed, Leonard, I am without hair.”  She smiled broadly.  “But I get your meaning.”

“You’ve got a pretty good sense of humor.  I’m gonna miss you.”  He reached down and gently grasped her hand in his, mindful of the claws.  “I can never thank you enough for all the help.  He would have died if you wouldn’t have intervened.”

Mak’ai reciprocated, squeezing McCoy’s hand tighter.  “You are friends now.  I would give my life for friends.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, missy.”

They both stood silently for a long moment, gazing at the Captain, who was finally resting peacefully.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy studied the information on his PADD intently.  Jim’s vitals were slowly coming back from the brink, the fever decreasing by the minute.  The infection that had caused the dangerous temperature spike was being held at bay by the small amount of antibiotics in Kirk’s system.  McCoy would have liked to have been able to administer another dose, but he knew he had to work with what he was given.  Once they got back to the ship, he’d give Jim more meds.  The wounds were stable, bleeding being kept at a minimum due to the tight bandages and McCoy’s skillful suture work.  His blood count was rising, his body naturally replenishing itself over time. 

McCoy was finally willing to breathe a sigh of relief.

A small one.

But Jim wasn’t out of the woods yet.  They still needed to get back to the ship if he had any chance of recovering normally.

He looked up every once and a while to glance at Jim, resting serenely.  His cheeks had taken on a more normal hue, despite the low-grade fever that still ravaged him.  No longer was his body trembling, whether it was from the ice, seizure or shock.  Now all Jim had to do was open his eyes.

McCoy knew that would be the ultimate test.  The Tricorder could only show him so much regarding Jim’s current brain function.  The fever had been dangerously high, so much so that McCoy had been genuinely worried that Kirk’s mind wouldn’t survive intact.  He needed Jim to wake up and talk to him, so he could administer a few basic neurological tests.  Then, and only then, would he be absolutely sure that Jim was “there.”

Jim groaned quietly, a small rattle detected as he exhaled.   McCoy leaned forward and listened intently.  He hoped it was just mucous settled in Kirk’s lungs from the seizure and fever—and not something more life-threatening like pneumonia setting in.

Because, dammit, that was something he did not need right now.

Kirk turned his head away from McCoy, exhaling deeply.  The rattle hadn’t returned, McCoy deciding that he was just overreacting.  He settled back into his chair as Jim stilled again.  He stared at Kirk, watching his chest rise and fall evenly.  His heartbeat was strong and beginning to even itself out, and was visible thumping in the jugular vein in his neck. 

McCoy turned his attention back to the PADD resting on his lap.  Jim’s heart rate danced on the screen, a rhythmic reminder of the life that almost left him.  He stared at the readout, mesmerized by each blip. 

_Life is so fragile._

_Jim almost died._

_He still could…_

_He loves me._

McCoy looked away from the screen, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger.  Closing his eyes for a moment, he focused on the sound of Jim’s breathing to help the budding pain behind beneath his temples.

He opened his eyes again, resting them once more on Kirk’s still form.  He so very badly wanted Jim to wake up, start cracking jokes and beg him to let him go back on duty.  But they weren’t on the Enterprise.  McCoy looked around the room, allowing himself to remember that they were marooned on an alien world, surrounded by people who wanted them dead. 

Hours away from escape.

And yet, in all the chaos and uncertainty, his thoughts wandered back to Kirk, and what he had professed a little more than two hours prior.  McCoy wanted to believe that the fever and drugs had been messing with Jim’s clarity. 

_Because there’s no way a vibrant young Starfleet Captain would fall for a crab-ass Southern doctor._

But Jim had. 

And McCoy found himself happier than he had ever been in his entire existence, even in this horrid situation they found themselves in.  It was as if all the grumpiness and cynicism melted away when he was in Kirk’s presence.  The times he cherished the most were when they were together, alone.  Jim would barge into his cabin, beer and popcorn in his hands, and plop himself on the couch.  Within minutes, some crappy movie was on the screen and whatever McCoy had been busying himself with would end up pushed to the wayside.  He hated Jim’s taste in movies, but he would reluctantly always sit and watch, Kirk shoving a beer into his hand as he relaxed.  He didn’t even know where the Captain had gotten the beer…and he had always decided it was better not to ask.  They would inevitably fall asleep, McCoy waking the next morning with Jim’s head on his shoulder or feet in his face. 

And not once did anything feel “weird.”  Kirk would bound off the couch, all smiles and sunshine, even after a night on the most uncomfortable piece of furniture on the whole ship.  Within minutes he would be gone, off to command the Starfleet Flagship for another day.

_How the hell could he always be so goddamn chipper?_

Kirk would depart, leaving McCoy to clean up the bottles and popcorn kernels that would find their way under the couch, and he would wonder every time what it meant.  Never wanting to read too much into it— _he’s not interested in you, you sullen old man_ —he would continue with his day, eventually having to track Jim down for skipping out on a vaccine or chase him out of Sick Bay when he was being annoying.

_He’s always around you, Leonard._

_He never leaves you alone._

_He scares the shit out of you and then smiles like nothing happened…_

_…and you let him._

_Because you know you can always fix him._

_Because you don’t want to ever let him go._

_You’d die without him…_

“Doctor McCoy?”  Leonard turned to see Spock standing stoically in the doorway.  He moved towards the bed, his eyes tracking towards Jim as he did so.  “The Captain is regaining his color.  His respirations also seem to be returning to normal.”

McCoy stood and tossed the PADD back onto the seat.  “Yeah, he’s trying to beat this.  I just don’t know how much fight he has left.”  He exhaled deeply.  “I’m guessing you want to get the hell out of here.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Correct, Doctor.  The sun will be rising in three-point-six hours.  I recommend we leave while it is still dark.  It will be our best chance to avoid Ka’al’s men.”

McCoy looked back to Jim, moving in to adjust the shoulder sling.  “He’s about as stable as he’s gonna get.”

Spock clasped his hands behind his back.  “Doctor, do you believe the Captain can hear us talking?”

McCoy shrugged his shoulders.  “Possibly.  He’s drifting in and out of consciousness.  Why?”

“I do not wish to offend him.”

McCoy scowled at the Vulcan.  “You’ve never been worried about that in the past, what gives now?”

“I happened to overhear a portion of the conversation between you and Kirk.  I did not realize you two had romantic feelings for one another.”

_You don’t beat around the bush, do you?_

McCoy’s answer came without any hesitation.  “Neither did I.”  McCoy sighed.  “I mean, I didn’t know he felt the same way.  It’s…wait a minute, why the hell am I even discussing this with you?”

Spock’s eyebrows both peaked.  “It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I was merely curious about this new information.” 

McCoy looked down at Jim.  “This isn’t something that we want made public, alright?  We still have to figure this out for ourselves.”

Spock nodded.  “As you would say on Earth, ‘your secret is safe with me.’  Is it not my place to pass judgment or reveal what we have discussed to anyone.”

_I know you’re telling the truth._

_Thanks, you green-blooded weirdo._

McCoy pursed his lips.  “Yeah, well…thank you.”

“Your thanks are unnecessary.  Your private life is yours and yours alone.  What you choose to do in your own time—and who you choose to share it with—should be the concern of no one else.”

McCoy allowed himself to smile slightly.  “Dammit, Spock.  Quit making me not hate you so much.  It freaks me out.”

 


	9. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Nine

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Nine

_Personal Log, Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy, Stardate 2258.207:  I’m so ready to get off this goddamn planet.  We’ve been stuck here for over, hell, what time is it?  It’s oh-four-fifteen, which means we’ve been here for almost twelve hours.  We’re gonna try and make our escape before six.  Mak’ai said the sun should be up around six-thirty.  We’re cuttin’ it awful close, and I just hope we get out of this with our heads still on._

_Jim’s in pretty bad shape.  He’s lost a tremendous amount of blood and has a nasty bacterial infection from the wounds and or projectiles.  Damned if I know which though, I can’t get back to my Sick Bay to better equipment.  His temperature got so high he ended up seizing, and I administered an anti-convulsant that thankfully stopped the seizure. I just need him to wake up so I can assess his neuro function.  His pupils reacted to light, so I’m hoping that his brain’s still workin’.  I managed to remove two of the three bullets from him, but not without torturing him in the process.  It was god-awful.  I’ve never heard screams like that—ever.  It broke my heart.  My hands were shakin’ so bad I thought I was going to screw up.  And that damn pointy-eared bastard kept his cool and held him down like nothin’ was wrong.  I guess I envy him, being able to disconnect like that.  Seeing Jim in agony and knowing that it was because of what I was doing, well…it wasn’t my proudest moment.  I know it had to be done, and that he would’ve died if I hadn’t intervened, but Christ almighty, no one should ever have to be brutalized like that.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget it._

_(sighs)_

_This whole situation sucks, and on top of it, the damn kid tells me he loves me.  I thought I could get through my life loving him from afar, and never having to admit it to anyone but myself that Jim Kirk had stolen my heart. I was perfectly content with that scenario, and then, there it was:  “love you, Bones.”  At first I figured it was the fever or pain meds makin’ his mind out of whack, but the more I thought about it…shit.  He’s sincere.  I guess I can’t say that I didn’t see it comin’ even if I never wanted to admit it.  I mean, he never leaves me alone, he’s always touchy-feely and dammit, the way he talks to me and treats me always bordered on “more than friends.”  I just never thought he would feel the same way.  So, now what the hell am I supposed to do?  I don’t know how Starfleet would feel about two of their officers being so close.  Fraternization and all.  I know that there isn’t an ounce of discrimination in Starfleet, and for that I’m thankful.  Everyone seems to be pretty okay with guys bein’ together.  But throw into the mix that these two “guys” just happen to be a Captain and CMO…damned if I know what’ll come of it._

_For now I can’t worry about it, ‘cause I need to get Jim stable enough to move. Mak’ai has a large cart that she uses to haul produce to a local market, we’re gonna hide the kid on it and drag his ass to the extraction zone.   I just pray to whatever God happens to be hangin’ around this planet that we get back to the ship safely.  Then I can deal with this whole damn “Jim” situation._

_Jesus Christ._

_I’m in love with Jim Kirk.  Well if that just don’t beat all.  End log._

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Bones?”

The weak but familiar voice snapped McCoy’s attention from his PADD and he was greeted by bloodshot, bright blue eyes. 

_Thank God.  He’s talking._

_Now let’s see if he remembers who the hell he is._

“Hey, kid.  Didn’t know if you were gonna come back to me.”

Kirk blinked slowly and licked his dry lips.  “Thirsty.”

McCoy poured a glass of cool water from a pitcher Mak’ai had left.  He cradled the back of Jim’s head gently and lifted forward, pressing the glass to Kirk’s lips.  Jim drank slowly before his neck lost its strength, and his head lolled backwards.  He looked at McCoy with a confused expression.  “What’d you mean…that you didn’t know if I would…come back to you?”

McCoy pursed his lips.  He didn’t really want to tell him about the seizure.  “It’s nothing.  Just scared the hell outta me like you always do.”

Jim cracked a faint smile.  “It’s my job, Bones.”  He exhaled deeply through his nose, wincing slightly as the air left his lungs.  “My shoulder hurts, and my stomach.”

 “It’s probably just the sutures healing and the muscles in your abdomen recovering from being stretched by my ha…”  He stopped himself.

“I remember, Bones.”  Jim’s voice was meek.  “The last thing I recall is…your fingers digging in my belly.  It felt weird.  And it hurt…a lot.”

_Shit._

_He remembers._

 “Jim, I…”  He had hoped that Kirk wouldn’t retain any memory of the procedure.  And here, his worst fears were realized.  He shook his head as he spoke.  “…I’m so sorry.  I know it must have been awful.  But you gotta believe me when I say that it was your only chance for survival.”

Jim nodded slowly and cleared his throat.  “I know.  You did what had to do.”  His voice was regaining its strength, the familiar sparkle shining in his eyes once more.  “If it wasn’t for you, Spock might be carrying me back in a body bag.”

McCoy didn’t even want to entertain that option.  “Don’t even talk like that.  You’re not outta the woods yet.”  He held his hand in front of Kirk’s face, extending his index finger.  “Follow my finger with your eyes, don’t move your head.”

He moved his hand back and forth slowly, watching intently as Jim’s eyes tracked along with it.  His neurological functions seemed to be intact.

So far.

“What’s your full name and rank?” 

Kirk snorted. “You already know that.”

McCoy narrowed his eyes.  “Of course I do, dammit!  But I need to find out if _you_ still do.”

Jim closed his eyes and sighed.  “James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the starship Enterprise.  My childhood pet was named ‘Sparky’…and one time I drove a car off…”

“That’s enough, smart ass.”  McCoy shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.  “You’re definitely getting back to normal.” 

“I still feel like shit, though.”  Kirk grimaced.  “My leg is throbbing.”

McCoy lifted the blanket on Jim’s leg and adjusted the pillow supporting Kirk’s thigh.  Blood was beginning to seep through the makeshift bandage, causing McCoy to scowl. “I don’t have any more pain hypos, so you’re just gonna have to suck it up for now.  Sorry, kid.”

Kirk let his eyes flutter shut.  “It’s okay…I’m so tired anyway, I don’t know if I can even stay awake.”  He shifted his upper body, wincing as his shoulder slid on the pillow.  “What’s the situation with Ka’al?”

McCoy pursed his lips.  “He’s huntin’ for us.  We hid while they searched the house, but I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them.  If I were a bettin’ man, I’d think Ka’al wants to make an example of us.”

“Great.  Any word from the Enterprise?”

 “Not really,” McCoy replied.  “Communication’s been real sketchy due to the interference. We managed to make sparse contact before we got here, but Spock’s been reluctant to do it again.  We don’t need Ka’al tracking our signal.  We’re gonna let Sulu know when we’re en-route to the transport zone so we can get a beam out.  I needed to wait until I knew you were going to make it through the night before I even thought about trying to move you.”

“No shuttlecraft?”

McCoy shook his head.  “Those bastards shot one down already.  Spock didn’t want to risk losing another.”

Kirk closed his eyes and exhaled with annoyance.  “This just keeps getting worse.  First they kill Luuk-ti and take over the government, then I get myself shot to hell, we lose a shuttle, and we’re stuck here with no way to leave safely.  I really fucked up.”  He turned his head away from McCoy and stared at the window.  “I should have listened to you.  We should have never come down here.”

McCoy gently grabbed Kirk’s chin, bringing his head to face him once again.  “You listen to me, dammit.  You’re not at fault, it’s just shit luck.  You couldn’t have known there was going to be a goddamn coup.”

“Still, this always happens.  I need to learn to listen better.”

McCoy huffed, releasing Jim’s chin.  “That’ll be the day.  You’re never going to take my advice and you know it.  The minute you do, I’m calling the psych ward, ‘cause it’ll scare the hell out of me.”

Kirk smiled sheepishly.  “What’s our ETA for extraction?” 

“It’s almost four-thirty.  Spock wants to make a run for it before six.” 

Jim nodded, eyes drooping shut.  “I can’t walk.”

“No shit. Even if you could stand on that leg, I wouldn’t let you.  Your abdominal injury is still critical.  Mak’ai did her best to give me more supplies, but the wounds are still in bad shape.”

Jim’s eyes opened and he looked at McCoy, confused.  “Who’s Mak’ai?”

_What the hell?_

_He’s seen her._

_He was awake for a while after we arrived._

_She comforted him._

_Shit.  Maybe his brain’s screwed up after all._

“Don’t you remember, kid?  This is her house.  She comforted you while I…worked.”

Kirk frowned.  “Everything’s so fuzzy.  I guess more will come back to me later.”  Kirk’s expression    turned to one of surprise.  “Wait…how did we even get here?”

McCoy sat in his chair.  “Mak’ai found us hiding after you were shot.  She offered to help and Spock carried you all the way here.”  He tapped a few commands into his PADD, then set it back on the nightstand.  “Your brain’s just screwy right now, from the shock and fever.  You’ll remember more after a while.”

“Ok.”  Kirk nodded.  “I guess I should thank her.  Where is Spock, anyway?”

McCoy looked towards the door.  “Finalizing our escape plan.  He’s worried about you, too.”

Kirk snorted and gave McCoy a look of skepticism.  “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, worried in his own weird Vulcan way.”  The doctor offered Kirk another sip of water, wiping away a dribble of the liquid from Jim’s chin when he was finished.

“How does he plan to get us out of here?”  Jim’s head sunk back into the pillow.

“Mak’ai has a cart that she uses to haul produce to the market.  We’re gonna hide you on it.” 

Jim cracked a small smile.  His eyelids were heavy.  “Far cry from a shuttlecraft, huh?”

“We’ll be outta here in no time.”  McCoy stood and lifted Kirk’s shoulders and back, gently adjusting the sling.  He noticed Jim’s body was getting hot again.  His eyes had closed, his body becoming relaxed.

_Dammit, if this fever’s gonna rear its ugly head again, it had better wait until we’re back on the ship._

McCoy stood silently for a moment, trying to deduce if Kirk had fallen asleep.  The young man’s breathing was deep and even, indicative of a person at rest.  He was just about to sit in his chair once again and return to Jim’s vital files when Kirk’s voice cut through the silent room.

“Sit for a minute, wouldja?”  Kirk patted the bed next to him with his good arm.  “I want to talk to you.”

_Here it comes._

_Let’s see if it was the fever talking or not._

McCoy rounded the bed and sat next to Jim.  He turned his body to face the younger man, one leg dangling off the side of the mattress.

“I want to tell you something.  In case we don’t make it back to the ship.”  He swallowed hard before continuing.  “I meant what I said last night.  I know it might not seem that way because I was kind of loopy.  I don’t remember a whole hell of a lot, but…”  He sighed, a small smile flickering on his lips.  “…I do love you, Bones.  Truly.”

“Goddammit, Jim.  I know.”  He leaned over and curled his fingers in Kirk’s hair.  “And I meant it, too.”

Kirk gave him a perplexed look.  “What do you mean?”  He turned his head towards McCoy, who moved his hand down Jim’s face and held his cheek.

“I figured you didn’t hear me.  You were pretty doped up.”  He leaned in close to Jim.  “I love you too, you stupid son of a bitch.” 

McCoy brought his lips to Kirk’s and kissed him tenderly.  Jim’s skin felt so soft and warm under McCoy’s hand as he ran this thumb over the younger man’s cheek.   Kirk exhaled deeply through his nose, the air tickling McCoy’s upper lip.  They finally pulled apart, Jim’s eyes remaining closed for a long moment.  The doctor just stared at him, utterly content.

Kirk finally opened his eyes and chuckled slightly.  “You know, I always kind of knew our first kiss would happen when I was injured.  Don’t ask me why, though.”

McCoy grunted.  “Probably because you’re always gettin’ your ass into trouble.”

Kirk nodded, his eyelids growing heavy once more.  “You’re not freaked out?”

“Of course I am, dammit!  Our relationship just took a space jump into the unknown!”  McCoy held Jim’s hand.  “But we can figure this whole goddamn mess out when we get back to the ship.”

“Sure, Bones.”  Kirk grimaced, a small moan leaving his lips.  “My stomach still hurts.”

McCoy squeezed the warm hand in his own and said nothing as Jim fell asleep, Kirk rubbing his own thumb across Leonard’s calloused fingertips. 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Master Ka’al.  We were unable to locate the Starfleet officers.”  Druk’laan knelt before his leader, not willing to make eye contact.  He glowed orange, broadcasting his terror for anyone and everyone to observe.  “But I assure you that we will continue our search.  From the amount of blood that I observed on the floor, their Captain has a very serious injury.  They will need to seek out supplies and assistance before too long if they wish to save him.  Then we can pounce and bring them before you.”

Ka’al’s toe claws scraped against the cobblestone floor as he circled around his warrior.  He stopped behind him, unsheathing a long blade from his belt.  Grabbing Druk’laan by the long spikes on the back of his neck, he wrenched the soldier’s head backwards, exposing his soft neck, not covered by scales.  He pressed the blade against the flesh, applying just enough pressure to draw a tiny drop of orange blood.

“You know what happens to men who fail me, don’t you?”  He began to slowly draw the knife towards him, slicing shallowly into the soft tissue.  He wasn’t going to kill him.  Yet.

Druk’laan gasped and stiffened.  “Master Ka’al!  I beg of you, please spare my life.  I vow that I will find those Federation bastards and drag them to you with my own hands!”  He screwed his eyes shut and his orange glow intensified.

Ka’al stopped the movement of the blade.  “And how can you assure me that you will make good on your promise, hmmm?  It has already been over twelve hours since they escaped.  They could not have made it very far, especially with a critical injury slowing them down.  There’s no reason other than your incompetence that they should not be at my feet.” 

Druk’laan was beginning to shake, his voice stammering with fear.  “M-master Ka’al…all I ask is six more hours.  If I have not located them in that time frame, I will return to you and make the ultimate sacrifice for my failure.”

Ka’al bent down and hissed into his ear.  “You are willing to bet your own life on the ability of your men to locate them?  When you have already failed?”  He tapped the blade on Druk’laan’s collar.  “I have little faith in your promise.  I propose you prove to me just how loyal you are.”  He sheathed the blade and dragged the warrior to his feet.

The resistance leader moved to a chest of drawers and yanked one open.  He rustled around for a moment before finding what he had been searching for.  When he turned around to face Druk’laan, he was wielding a small hatchet, adorned with intricate scrollwork on the blade.  He approached Druk’laan and handed it to him with a smirk.  “You vowed once that you were loyal to me, and you would do anything I said.”  He returned to the massive desk in the room and sat behind it, his chain mail clinking against the wooden seat.  He extended his arms out in front of himself, invitingly.  “So prove it, young apprentice.  I require tribute.”

Druk’laan swallowed hard.  He knew what his leader meant.  Every warrior had sworn their loyalty to Ka’al with a pledge to shed their own blood if he requested it.  Now, he would be forced to carry out that promise. 

He would be killed on the spot if he didn’t.

Druk’laan slowly fell to his knees once again.  He took a deep breath and placed his hand on the floor, clawed fingers splayed out.  He looked up at Ka’al, who nodded with a sinister expression.  Without any more hesitation, Druk’laan raised the hatchet and swung, severing his own hand neatly at the wrist. 

Ka’al bellowed out a great laugh.  “Wonderful!  You have proven your loyalty!”  He clapped his giant hands, watching as Druk’laan wavered as the blood began to flow from the wound. 

The warrior dropped the weapon to the floor and picked up his bloody hand.  He held his stump close to his body, packing it under his arm to staunch the blood flow.  He slowly rose to his feet.  He was visibly trembling.

“You have two hours to find James Kirk and his men.  If you fail me again…”

Druk’laan feebly bowed, dropping his severed hand as he moved.  “I will not fail you, Master.  You will kill Kirk with your bare hands with the rising of the sun.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

  
“Wake up, Jim.”  

McCoy gently squeezed Kirk’s uninjured shoulder.  The young Captain reluctantly began to open his eyes.  “ ‘M tired, Bones.  Leave me ‘lone.”

“You can sleep all you want when we get back to the Enterprise.  Now, c’mon.  I need you to listen to me.”  McCoy held up Jim’s boxers.  “Help me get these shorts back on you.”

Kirk’s eyes widened in surprise as he used his right hand to lift the thin sheet from his body and looked underneath.  “Really, Bones?  Naked?”  His eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Oh, shut up.  It’s nothin’ I haven’t seen before.  You used to walk around like a damn jaybird back at the Academy.”  He pulled the sheet off completely, removed the pillow from underneath Kirk’s thigh and slipped the boxers over Jim’s feet.  “I had to strip you to pack you in ice.  Fever’s nothin’ to screw around with.  Now, lift your ass for a second and I’ll pull ‘em up.”

Kirk grimaced as the muscles of his thigh moved and the sutures stretched.  He hissed as the elastic waistband skimmed over the bandaged wound.  As McCoy positioned the underwear in place, Jim let his backside fall back to the mattress.

“Will you help me take them off again later?”  The “Jim Kirk smirk” was back in full force.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, Jim.  At least wait until we’re alone to talk like that.”  McCoy pointed to the door, where Spock and Mak’ai had just appeared.

Spock approached the two men, Mak’ai trailing behind.  “Doctor, the cart is ready for our departure.”  He then focused on Kirk.  “It is good to see you alert, Captain.  It seems that your speech and vocabulary were not affected by the seizure.”

McCoy groaned, bringing his hand up to cover his face.

_Dammit, Spock._

“Seizure?”  Kirk looked to McCoy, concerned.  “Bones, what’s he talking about?”

McCoy gave an annoyed grunt. “Thanks a lot, Spock.”

“I was unaware you did not tell the Captain about the seizure.  My apologies, Doctor.”

McCoy pursed his lips.  “Whatever.”  He turned back to Kirk.  “I didn’t think you needed to know.  God knows you didn’t need the stress.” He shot Spock a dirty look.  “You had a Grand Mal seizure brought on by a dangerously high fever.  I was able to control it with medications.”

“Aren’t seizures dangerous?”  Kirk was obviously worried.

McCoy patted his shoulder gently. “They can be.  I caught yours in time, though.  Don’t worry.”  He turned and extended his hand towards Mak’ai.  “Jim, I’d like to formally introduce you to the woman who saved your life.  Meet Mak’ai.”

Mak’ai stepped forward, her toothy grin covering her entire reptilian face.  “You did all the work, Doctor.  I merely gave you safe haven.  Captain Kirk, I am so glad you are doing better.  You really worried your friends…and me.”  She reached down and gently took his hand in hers. 

“Jim Kirk.”  He squeezed her hand feebly, his strength not recovered yet.  “I can’t thank you enough for everything.  Bones here tells me that if it wouldn’t have been for you, we’d be up shit creek.”

Mak’ai looked confused.  “’Shit creek?’  ‘Bones?’” 

Kirk chuckled, wincing as his stomach muscles tightened.  “It means we’d be in a load of trouble.”  He looked up at McCoy.  “And he’s Bones.  It’s a nickname I gave him.”

McCoy interjected.  “And he’s the only one who calls me that.”

Spock chimed in.  “Captain, it is nearly time to make our escape.”  He turned his attention to McCoy.  “Doctor, is it safe to move him?”

“Normally I’d say ‘no.’ But we really don’t have much of a choice.  We need to be careful, but yes—we can move him.”

Mak’ai stood silently, her tiny hands clasped at her midsection, claws clicking together anxiously.  She opened her mouth to speak, only to stop herself, her eyes still hopeful, but guarded.  This did not go unnoticed by Spock.

“Mak’ai, is there something you wish to say?” 

Her eyes darted back and forth between the three men, uncertainty showing on her face.  “Gentlemen, I feel as if I can trust you, and I have developed genuine feelings of compassion and friendship for all three of you.  I am deeply concerned for you, Captain Kirk.”  She smiled in his direction.  “I feel as though the situation here on Xentia has degraded to the point where I am no longer safe, and neither are my countrymen.   I understand that Starfleet will more than likely not involve themselves in the strife of a non-member.  I have no family to tie me to this place, and I have no chance at living a normal life if I stay.  I want to attend your Academy and study medicine.  Doctor McCoy, your care for your Captain; your compassion and obvious love for him, your medical expertise…you have inspired me.   I…”  She nervously looked down at her feet.  “…I do not wish to be a burden, but I am begging you…please take me with you.”

Spock began to speak but was interrupted by his Captain.  “Of course we’ll take you with us.”   

She smiled broadly, moving towards Kirk and gently embracing him.  “Thank you, Captain.  You will not regret your decision.”

Spock cocked his head.  “Captain, I am unsure that is the wisest decision.  The Prime Directive states…”

Kirk raised a shaky hand to stop him.  “I know what the Prime Directive says, Spock.  But we’re way past protecting her individual scientific growth.”  He gestured to Mak’ai.  “If we leave her here, it’ll be just a matter of time until Ka’al finds out she helped us.  And you’ve seen what he does to people who cross him.”

“Captain, I believe that you are not in a stable frame of mind to be making this decision. You have sustained massive blood loss coupled with a violent seizure that I believe is hindering your ability to think clearly. The Prime Directive states that we cannot interfere with an alien species’ natural course of knowledge.  We must allow her to find her own path, on her own planet.  As cruel as it may seem, she needs to stay here.”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “Your argument is noted, Mister Spock.”  He turned his attention back to Mak’ai.  “But she’s still coming with us.” 

Spock stiffened his posture, his tone stern.  “Captain Kirk, you could face serious penalties for disobeying Admiral Pike’s orders, including but not limited to a Court Marshall.”

“That’s enough, Spock.  I know you don’t like it when I break the rules, but this is a mercy case.  If we leave her here, they’ll kill her.  And I don’t want that on my conscience.”  He grimaced, twisting his abdomen in discomfort.  His voice was pained.  “Leave me to deal with…the fallout from Pike.”

Spock reluctantly relented, a scowl gracing his thin lips.  “Very well, Captain.  As per procedure, this insubordination will have to be recorded…”

“…In your log.  Got it, Spock.”  He swallowed hard.  “Bones, my stomach hurts.”

McCoy patted Kirk on the shoulder.  “I know, kid.  I don’t have any pain meds for you though.  I’m sorry.”

Kirk’s face twisted in agony, his breathing becoming erratic.  “No, Bones…it _really_ hurts.”  Jim coughed violently, immediately grabbing his abdomen with his right hand.  Almost instantly, blood began to seep through the layer _s_ of fabric McCoy had used as a bandage.  Jim moaned and screwed his eyes shut.

“Dammit, what the hell happened?”  McCoy’s hands moved swiftly, pulling the bandages off of Jim’s belly.  He immediately felt the returning rigidity. 

_Abdomen’s rigid.  Goddammit, his belly’s filled with blood again._

He exposed the gaping incision, sutures hanging loose from the edges. Blood began to pool in the crevice, dripping from the sides and down Jim’s left flank.  “Son of a bitch!”  He immediately applied pressure with the fabric, causing Kirk to yelp in pain.   “The cough must’ve split the stitches open!”

He grabbed Mak’ai’s hand and guided it onto Jim’s stomach, demonstrating how much pressure to hold.  “Don’t move your hand, got it?”

He whipped out his Tricorder and scanned Kirk.  The readout indicated his spleen was hemorrhaging again.  “Shit!  His spleen’s leaking, and probably has been for a while.  The growing pressure from the bleeders inside probably didn’t help the sutures hold, either.  Dammit, why didn’t my last scan pick this up?”  McCoy scowled at the device.  

Kirk’s voice was losing its strength, his words beginning to slur.  “ ‘ones…I don’ feel s’good…ev’rything’s cloudy…”  His eyes fluttered shut.

_You are not bleeding out on me now, dammit!_

McCoy shook Jim firmly.  “Listen to me, Jim!  You stay with us, you got it?”  He pried one of Kirk’s eyes open, showing that they had rolled back into their sockets. 

_Please show me those baby blues, Jim._

The doctor slapped Kirk’s cheek.  “Jim!  Come back!”  He felt himself begin to panic when the Captain failed to respond.  He knew he had to stay strong for both Jim and the others, but he could feel his resolve seeping away.  Fear was beginning to take him over and he wanted desperately to kiss Kirk again, to somehow use their budding love to will him back from the brink. 

“Doctor McCoy, what do you require of us?”  Spock’s tone was urgent, yet calm.

McCoy stood dumbfounded for a moment, uncharacteristically silent as he watched Jim’s lifeblood ooze out from underneath Mak’ai’s hands.  His hands shook, and the Tricorder clattered to the floor.  His eyes briefly glanced to the PADD on the nightstand, Jim’s heartbeat still flickering on the screen.

_He’s still alive, Leonard._

_Keep him that way._

_Don’t fail him now by losing your cool._

_Only you can save him._

_He needs you._

_…and you need him._

McCoy quickly regained his composure and flew into action.  “Mak’ai, Spock and I are going to pull this long bandage as tight as we possibly can.  Keep your hands in place until the last second and we’ll bind his abdomen.  That should buy us a little time.”

Spock grabbed one end of the fabric, McCoy pulling the other end around and wrapping it close to Kirk’s body.  Mak’ai moved her hands as the two men yanked tight, doubling the bandage over on itself, compressing Kirk’s flesh underneath.  Jim groaned in agony, but did not open his eyes.

McCoy leaned down close to Jim’s ear.  “I know it hurts, Jim.  Just hang on a little longer, we’re leaving.”  He smoothed his thumb over Kirk’s eyebrow soothingly.  He lowered his voice to a below a whisper, ensuring that Kirk was the only recipient of the words leaving his mouth.  “Jim…you are my life.  Don’t leave me now…after we’ve come so far.”

He stood and straightened out his blood-stained uniform top, the faint light of the sun about to rise beginning to filter through the drapes. They needed to move.  “Get the cart ready and I’ll pack up.” Mak’ai nodded hastily and ran from the room.  Spock and McCoy began to pack away the meager amount of belongings and medical equipment they had.  The doctor shoved the remnants of Kirk’s uniform and pants, along with his boots, into a canvas bag Mak’ai had provided for them.  Jim writhed on the bed, his right hand instinctively clutching his wounded abdomen, as he drifted in and out of consciousness.  His body was covered in droplets of sweat. 

Kirk whimpered, his forehead creased with pain.  “Bones…”

“Right here, kid.”  He gently rubbed Kirk’s immobilized shoulder.  “Mak’ai’ll be back any minute and we’ll blow this joint.”

No sooner than the words had left McCoy’s mouth, Mak’ai came bolting back in the door, out of breath.  “We must move quickly!”  Her eyes showed terror.  “Druk’laan is coming!”

Without hesitation, Spock scooped Kirk into his arms and lifted him from the bed.  The blood-stained sheets stuck to Jim’s back for just a moment before falling back onto the mattress.  McCoy grabbed his Med Kit, Tricorder and PADD, shoving the two devices into the bag from Mak’ai before he flung it over his shoulder.  He ran alongside Spock as they exited the room, watching as Jim’s head lolled from side to side as the Vulcan moved. 

Mak’ai shooed them towards a back door, where the cart that would carry them to freedom waited.  She had padded the flatbed with sacks and a pillow from her house.  McCoy noticed there was a small ornate backpack resting up against the side.  He figured it was the few possessions Mak’ai could carry with her.

_She’s really leaving her home._

_She’s probably never going to come back._

_She’s risking everything…for us._

“Hurry!”  Mak’ai glowed a brilliant orange. 

_She’s terrified._

The sounds of the approaching soldiers were getting louder.  McCoy could hear their armor and weapons clanking, their hissing voices floating on the light wind. A faint red glow appeared from the street. 

_They’re coming…and they’re pissed._

 Spock gently laid Kirk on the bed of fabric sacks and covered him completely with a thin blanket, hiding him.  When his hands were free, he flipped open his communicator and contacted the ship.

“Lieutenant Uhura, come in!”

_“Reading you, Commander Spock.  Go ahead.”_

“We are moving to the extraction point.  Be ready to beam us up the moment I signal you.  I will keep this channel open.”

_“On standby, Sir.  We’ll get you home…that’s a promise.”_

“Be prepared to beam four back.”

_“Four?”_

“Yes, Lieutenant.  Keep this channel open, we will be moving shortly.  Spock out.”  He slid the open communicator into a loop on his belt.

“Here!  Put these on!”  Mak’ai threw long robes at both men.  “The warriors would spot you in a heartbeat without them!” 

McCoy and Spock both donned their new apparel and grabbed the handles of the cart, beginning to pull instantly.  Mak’ai brought up the rear, watching both Jim and behind them.  Kirk groaned underneath the blanket.

They ran as fast as their legs and the cart’s wheels would allow, ducking down a dirt path behind Mak’ai’s home.  The trail was lumpy, the cart bouncing as it traversed along, wheels dipping into divots.  Every bounce caused Jim to moan or yelp, his body being jostled violently.

_Hang on, Jim._

They sprinted down the path, and McCoy began to believe that they had actually escaped Druk’laan’s men.  He quickly realized he was wrong when a loud hissing voice erupted from behind them.

“Starfleet!”

_So much for the robes disguising us…_

He turned just in time to see three soldiers begin to make their way down the path.  Their red glow gave away their position in the pre-dawn light.  He heard the rifle cock and felt the sting of the bullet in his arm seconds later.


	10. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Ten

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Ten

                “Spock!  I’ve been hit!”  McCoy’s arm began to bleed, the blood running down his forearm and dripping from his fingers. He was confident the bullet had gone right through the meat, and would be easy to repair. He knew he couldn’t let go of the cart handle to attend to his wound, so he hastily clapped his right hand over his sleeve.  If he hesitated for just a second, they would slow down.

And then they would be sitting ducks.

Without stopping, Spock looked to his side to determine how badly McCoy had been injured.  “Doctor, do you require us to stop?”

“Hell no!  I wouldn’t stop now even if I was missing a damn leg!”

Spock furrowed his brows.  “It would be highly unlikely that you would be able to continue running with only one leg, Doctor.”

McCoy grumbled and held his right hand over the aching hole in his left bicep.  “Remind me to give you some lessons in sarcasm when we get back to the ship.”  He looked back over the cart, Mak’ai running frantically behind them.  He didn’t see the soldier following them anymore.  “I think we lost our bad guy!”

They kept running, every bump in the path amplified through the lack of shocks on the wheels.  Kirk groaned under the blanket, the small amount of padding Mak’ai had laid out for him not nearly enough.  McCoy looked back at the flatbed, scowling when he saw a dark red stain beginning to seep through the fabric covering Jim.

_Hang on, Jim.  I’ll have you in Sick Bay in fifteen minutes…_

Commotion rang out all around them, and it seemed like the soldiers had split up, as their voices now echoed off the trees from all directions.  A single red glowing figure darted behind the tall trees.  McCoy just barely noticed him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Spock!”  The doctor’s voice was a loud whisper.  “There’s one at my five o’clock.  I think the others split off.”

Mak’ai’ offered a suggestion from the rear.  “Mister Spock, it may be possible to subdue the warrior now that he is separated from his comrades.  It may make our escape easier.”  The cart hit a rock in the road, causing Jim to gasp in pain.

“Dammit, we can’t keep jostling him like this!”  McCoy’s grip slipped on the cart handle with the bump, warm blood making his palm slick.  “She’s right, Spock.  If we rid ourselves of even one of those bastards, we wouldn’t have to run as fast.  The ride back there’s gotta be like the rumble seat in my Granny’s vintage roadster. Jim’s not gonna make it if we keep this up.”

_Christ, I’m not even exaggerating._

_I can’t save him unless we get back to the ship._

_He needs to make it to the ship…alive._

_He needs evac now._

“It would be logical to assume that two soldiers would be easier to escape from than three.  Unfortunately, we have little time in which to act.  Mak’ai, do you have any suggestions?”  Spock never looked back at her as he spoke.

“Kill him.”  Mak’ai’s voice was cold. 

McCoy was stunned.  He had never heard such ferocity in her tone, even when she had been arguing with Druk’laan.  Granted, he had only known her for a day, but he didn’t think that she would be the one to offer such a drastic option. 

“I hate to break it to you, Missy, but ‘Ol Pointy-ears here won’t kill him unless he shoots first,” McCoy yelled back over his shoulder.  “But we could stun his ass and hide him.”

“Your derogatory reference to my ears aside, Doctor, you do have a point.  Killing him without provocation in cold blood would only sully future talks with Ka’al, should Starfleet decide to attempt them.  While I am sure you are able provide several reasons for me to end his life regardless of the situation, stunning the soldier would be the wisest course of action.” 

Jim writhed on the cart, his legs tangling in the sheet covering him.  “Bones…can’t…see you…m’stomach…hurts…”

“Jim, I’m right here.  We’re almost in the clear.”  McCoy swore under his breath.  “Whatever you’re gonna do, do it fast! He doesn’t have much time.”

“Doctor, I suggest we pull off to the side of the path.  We can hide in the underbrush until the soldier comes this way.”  Spock began to slow his running.

“And just what to you expect me to do with Jim?  I can’t drag him off the cart and dump him in the forest!  He’s already at death’s door!”  McCoy was exasperated.

“You did not allow me finish.  If we leave the Captain on the cart we can use him as bait.  I believe his moans of anguish will lure Druk’laan’s man towards us.”

McCoy never wanted to punch Spock so badly in his life.  “Not a chance, you ogre!  He’s not some worm that you dangle from a pole, hopin’ to score a catfish!  He’s a human being, and we’re not leaving him out there just so that damn bastard can come put a bullet in his head.”

“Doctor, I understand your concern for the Captain’s well-being.  Let me assure you that I am more than confident in my marksmanship skills and can assure you that the ‘damn bastard’ will not get close enough to Captain Kirk to harm him.”

McCoy huffed.  He knew Spock was expertly qualified in marksmanship, second only to Jim.  And as dangerous as his plan was, it did have an excellent chance of succeeding.  Then they could have a fighting chance to escape back to the ship.

_Jim, I hope this isn’t a bad call._

_I can’t believe I’m gonna agree to this._

McCoy relented.  “Spock, I swear to God, if even one hair on Jim’s head is touched, I’ll hold you down and rip those damn eyebrows out one strand at a time.”

Spock had dragged the cart to a halt.  “It would be unlikely that you would be able to suppress me in such a manner, seeing as though Vulcans are exponentially stronger than humans.  Furthermore, I fail to see how removing my eyebrows would be fair retaliation to the Captain being harmed.”

McCoy got right in Spock’s face, his tone steely.  “Don’t screw this up.” 

Spock replied as he and Mak’ai hid themselves in the underbrush.  “I do not intend to, Doctor.” 

McCoy turned his attention back to the cart and moved swiftly to pull the blanket away from Kirk’s face.  His heart nearly broke at the sight.  Jim’s eyes were screwed shut, his mouth twisted in agony.  Pained moans escaped from cracked and dry lips. 

“Jim?  I need you to listen to me, okay?”  Kirk cracked his eyes open and tried to focus on McCoy.

“Bones…hurts so bad…”  His eyes rolled back in his head, and McCoy lightly slapped his cheek to bring him back around.

“Jim, we’re gonna hide in the bushes. Spock’s gonna stun the soldier that’s following us so we can get out of here easier. Don’t worry about being quiet…you moan as loud as you want.  I know it hurts.”  McCoy felt his stomach rumble with anxiety.  If this doesn't work…

_…the Xentian will kill him._

_And them._

“Don’…leave me…’ones...”  Kirk’s breathing was erratic.  McCoy had never seen him in this much pain before.  Ever.

The doctor leaned down and quickly kissed Jim on the cheek.  “I’m gonna be right over there in the weeds.  You’re gonna be alright, you hear me?  We’ll be back on the ship in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”  He pressed his forehead against Jim’s. 

A small snort came from Kirk’s mouth, followed by a pained chuckle.  “What the…hell…does that even…mean?”  Jim reached up with his good hand and held it against McCoy’s face. “I’m…tryin’ to…hang on…Bones.”

McCoy closed his eyes, tiny tears slipping from the corners and dripping onto Kirk’s face.  “I know, kid.  Don’t leave me yet, alright?”  He stood up and looked behind him, the red glow of the soldier getting closer.  “I’ll be right back.” 

He darted into the underbrush and lay on his stomach, keeping his eyes trained on the cart.  Jim’s pitiful groans carried through the quiet pre-dawn forest.  McCoy had to try and block the sound out, as every fiber of his being was telling him to go back out there and help Kirk.

_Dammit, man!  Some kind of doctor you are.  Letting your best friend…_

_…the love of your life…_

_…writhe in agony while some alien hell-bent on spilling more of his blood tracks us through the woods._

A hushed whisper came from next to him.  “Doctor, when I take my shot, you and Mak’ai must quickly drag the body into the greenery.  With our limited knowledge of Xentian physiology, I am unsure how long the stun effect will last.  We need to tie him up swiftly.” 

“Got it, Spock.  Just don’t miss.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “The likelihood that I will miss is less than three percent.  With the light from the steadily rising sun filtering through the trees, I have a clear line of sight.  Furthermore, my marksmanship skills are unmatched only by the Captain himself.  I am quite confident in my ability to hit the target.”

McCoy rolled his eyes.  “You know, Spock, it’s hard to annoy me more than Jim does.  But right now, you’re doing a bang-up job.”

Spock held a hand up.  “Doctor, please refrain from speaking.”  He pointed down the path.  The soldier had rounded the bend, taking cautious steps towards their location.  The trio hunkered down into the bushes, lying as low to the ground as possible. 

A loud groan came from the cart, and the soldier’s head snapped to attention.  He readied his pistol in front of his body and slowly made his way to the wagon, slightly crouched in a stealthy position.  His lips curled into a sinister smirk as he got closer, Jim’s cries beckoning to him.

_Just a few more steps._

_Hang on, Jim._

_You had better not miss, you green-blooded bastard, or I’ll wring your neck._

“…please…come back…Bones…”

_Oh God, Jim._

_I’m so sorry._

McCoy gritted his teeth and told himself that if he jumped out of the bushes now, they would all be killed.  All Spock needed was a few more seconds and they would be golden.  He rubbed his throbbing arm, blood sticking to his fingers. 

_This is nothing compared to what Jim is going through._

The soldier heard Jim’s plea and began to swiftly move towards the cart, a menacing smile on his face.  He came up behind it, peering over the rail to look down at Kirk’s weak form.  He began to raise his pistol.

A blue shot pierced the forest air, hitting the warrior in the neck.  He immediately fell and Mak’ai and McCoy darted out onto the path, dragging his heavy body back with them.  Mak’ai and Spock busied themselves tying him up with a length of rope from the cart, anchoring him to an ancient tree trunk.  The soldier stayed unconscious.

McCoy flew back out onto the path, jumping immediately to Jim’s side.  He pulled the sheet back, exposing Kirk’s bare chest and torso.  Blood was beginning to pool underneath him. 

_Sweet Jesus, he’s bleeding out._

“Spock!”  His tone was hushed, but urgent.  “We’ve gotta move now!  I don’t know how much more blood he can lose!”  He hastily climbed on the cart, moving behind Kirk.  He cradled his head in his lap, taking note that Jim’s muscle tone was almost non-existent.  “You two are gonna have to pull us.  Light a fire under it and let’s go!”

Mak’ai and Spock both grabbed a cart handle and began pulling once again, the cart jostling over every little bump and rock the path had to give them.

McCoy bent his head down and whispered into Kirk’s ear.  “Almost home, Jim.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

“You fools!”  Druk’laan screamed at his two remaining soldiers.  “You’ve let them get away!”  He frantically looked around.  “Where is Grub-ali?”

The two warriors looked at each other, perplexed, and it seemed as if neither of them wanted to answer their leader.  They both stood silently, avoiding eye contact with Druk’laan. 

Their master approached and grabbed one by the throat with his remaining hand, squeezing.  “You will tell me where he is, or I will crush your windpipe.”

The soldier wiggled in his mighty grasp, bringing his hands up to claw at the fingers clasped tightly around his neck.  “Master…he went off…on his own.  He thought he…saw…them…”

Druk’laan let the man go, letting him fall to his knees to catch his breath.  “Which way?”  The other soldier pointed down the opposite path with his rifle.  Druk’laan kicked the warrior on the ground.  “Follow me!  We cannot let those Starfleet monsters escape!” 

They soon came upon Grub-ali, stunned and tied to a tree.  One of the soldiers quickly ran into the underbrush and cut his bonds, the unconscious man listing to the side and eventually tumbling to the forest floor. 

Druk’laan bounded into the forest, and kicked him.  When he received no response, he pulled out his weapon and shot him twice in the head.  He felt the terror rise in his throat as he realized that there was a real possibility that the Federation men would escape.

Then he would be killed.

He would not let his master down.

He the focused his attention back to his remaining warriors.  Trying his hardest to push the creeping feeling of dread back into his stomach, he addressed them.  “You see that?”  He pointed with his gun to Grub-ali’s corpse.  “This will be all of our fates if we fail!” 

He stepped back onto the path and knelt, placing his fingers in newly-formed ruts in the moist dirt.  He stood and pointed down the path, his eyes following the trail made by the wheels of the cart.

“For Ka’al!” 

He ran down the path, his warriors following closely behind.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

The clearing was a couple hundred feet ahead.  McCoy could see it every time he craned his neck backwards.  Spock and Mak’ai ran swiftly, the cart almost jumping off the path several times in their attempts to move faster.

Jim had become quieter, a fact that worried McCoy.  He knew the Captain didn’t have much time left.

_Almost there, Jim._

_You’ll be in surgery in twenty minutes tops._

The doctor ran his fingers through Kirk’s short hair.  The action caused the younger man to open his eyes slightly and stare up at him. 

“Bones?  I…don’t thin’…gonna make…”

McCoy shushed him.  “No way, Jim.  You don’t get to give up yet, because I sure as hell haven’t!”  He gripped Kirk’s right hand firmly, compressing his fingers together.  The blood on his hand stuck to Kirk’s palm.  “By tomorrow morning, you’ll be back to your old game.  You know, annoying the shit out of me.”

He expected Kirk to attempt a smile at his remark, but the Captain merely nodded slightly as his eyes fluttered shut once more, a shaky sigh rattling his chest.  He watched as Jim’s breathing became more and more labored, each breath accompanied by a pained moan.

_Run faster, dammit!_

He twisted his neck to yell to the front of the cart. “How much longer?  His tank’s on empty!”

“Minutes, Doctor.”  Mak’ai pointed towards the field.

“Call ahead to Uhura and tell her to have M’Benga waiting with a trauma team!”  McCoy looked down again at Kirk, his eyes staring off to the left under half-closed lids.

_You’re losing too much blood, kid._

_Don’t fade on me._

_I need you too much…_

Spock pulled his communicator from his belt loop one-handed.  “Lieutenant Uhura, do you copy?  Doctor McCoy has requested that Doctor M’Benga and a trauma team meet us in the transporter room.  ETA, three minutes.”

_“Yes Sir, understood.  Be careful.”_

“…Bones…”  McCoy looked down at Jim’s face to find him staring up at him with pained eyes.  “…hurts when I…breathe…please help m…”  Tears began to drip from the corners of Kirk’s eyes. 

McCoy couldn’t even fathom the kind of pain the kid had to have been in.

He comforted Kirk as best he could. “Shhh, darlin’.  I know it hurts like a son of a bitch.  And I promise you’ll get some drugs just as soon as we get back to the ship.”  He leaned over and kissed Jim quickly.  “But you gotta stay calm right now, alright?  We’re almost in the clear.”

Kirk swallowed hard.  “…don’ wanna…leave you…yet…”

“Then don’t, dammit!”  McCoy wiped the tears from Jim’s cheeks with his thumb.  His arm ached with the movement, but he didn’t wince.  He didn’t want to worry Jim unnecessarily.  “You just focus on me, got it?  Listen to my voice.”

Jim nodded weakly.  “ ‘kay, Bones…”  He yelped as the cart bounced over a divot.  “This…s-sucks…”

“Damned if I didn’t know that already, Jim.”  He held Kirk closer.  “Tell you what, if you cooperate with me in Sick Bay, I’ll even let you have that nasty Andorian candy that you love.  We’re gonna dock with a Starbase soon and I promise I’ll find some.”

Jim managed a feeble grin.  “I do…love…the slimy…centers…”

McCoy curled his fingers in Jim’s hair.  “I still love you, though, even if your taste in sweets makes me want to vomit.”  He knew their conversation choice must have seemed absurd to Spock and Mak’ai, but McCoy would talk about the sexual habits of Gorn if it meant keeping Jim’s attention on him.  He needed him to stay conscious to minimize shock.

The doctor watched as the trees and flowers whizzed by the speeding cart.  He would be glad when he didn’t have to see them anymore.  He never wanted to come back to this planet ever again.  He was snapped from his thoughts when the trees suddenly disappeared and they were in the clearing.  Spock and Mak’ai stopped the cart.  McCoy gently eased himself out from under Kirk’s head and scrambled off the flatbed.  Mak’ai and the doctor tenderly pulled Jim from the cart and laid him on the forest floor.  Kirk cried out in pain as he made contact with the ground.

“Lieutenant Uhura, we need immediate evac. Transmitting our coordinates now.”  Spock punched the digits into his device.

_“The signal’s sluggish, Sir.  There’s some interference in the atmosphere that’s causing a delay.  I’m trying to compensate now.  Stand by.”_

McCoy knelt on the dewy grass, pulling Jim’s limp body onto his lap.  He could immediately feel the warm blood from Kirk’s wounds seeping into his pants.  “Hang on, kid.  Just a few more seconds.”

_I hope._

Shouting came from the distance, the unmistakable red glow of very angry Xentians closing in on their position.

“They’re coming!”  Mak’ai glowed the most brilliant orange the doctor had ever seen.  She ran close to him, kneeling at his side. 

Spock urgently hailed the ship again.  “Enterprise, we need transport now!”

_“Almost got you, Spock.  Five seconds.”_

Druk’laan and his men rushed into the clearing just in time to see the away team disappear into a mass of golden swirling filaments and fade away.

He sunk to his knees, staring dumbly at the clearing that the Starfleet officers had occupied seconds before.

Wordlessly, he brought his pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The birds in the trees scattered as the shot fired.


	11. Caught in the Crossfire: Chapter Eleven

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Eleven

                Chaos.

As soon as they materialized on the transporter pad, the entire room erupted with movement.  McCoy barely had time to register that they were actually back on the ship before M’Benga was at his side, waving a scanner over Kirk’s body.  McCoy recognized the warning alarms coming from the device.

Jim was dying.

“Len, what the hell happened?”  M’Benga lifted the sopping wet bandage from Kirk’s abdomen to take a quick peek.  He gasped when he exposed the wound.  Jim twisted his body on McCoy’s lap, blood dripping down his back and onto the shining transporter pad. 

It took McCoy a second to get his bearings, looking down at Jim’s pale and sweaty face before flying into full-on “doctor mode.”  “Three gunshot wounds from a distance,” he barked to his trauma team.  “Shoulder, upper thigh and abdomen.  He’s lost a tremendous amount of blood and had a fever-induced Grand Mal seizure last night.  Temp’s on its way up again.  My money’s on a bacterial infection.” 

M’Benga carefully slipped Jim from McCoy’s lap and laid him directly on the transporter pad.  Crewmembers around them stopped to stare at their wounded Captain.  Mak’ai had sunk into the corner or the room near the transporter controls and was watching silently.  Jim groaned and briefly opened his eyes before letting them fall closed once again. 

McCoy resumed his update.  “I was able to remove two of the three projectiles; the one in his shoulder’s lodged in bone.”

M’Benga was shocked.  “Wait a minute; I didn’t think the Med Kits for away missions had sedatives in them.  How did you remove the bullets without proper sedation?”

McCoy swallowed hard. It wasn’t something he felt like talking about in depth.  The sound of Jim’s screams would haunt him for the remainder of his lifetime.  “I did what I had to do.  Keeping him alive was top priority.”  M’Benga nodded in understanding, his eyes drifting to Kirk’s pained face.  McCoy continued.  “I sutured the belly wound manually last night, but he started bleeding again sometime this morning.  The Tricorder didn’t pick up the internal hemorrhaging until it was too late.  The pressure from the bleeding coupled with a violent cough burst the stitches.  That’s when all hell broke loose.”   He began to try and lift Jim towards the waiting hover-stretcher. 

M’Benga grabbed his left arm.  “Whoa, hang on there, Doc, you’re bleeding.”  He extended McCoy’s arm out straight, the doctor hissing his disapproval when M’Benga pulled a little too hard. 

McCoy tried to yank his arm back, but M’Benga was not going to release his grip.  “I’m fine, Geoff.  Just focus on Kirk.”

“Like hell you’re fine Len.”  M’Benga quickly cut the tattered robe sleeve from McCoy’s arm.  As the fabric fell to the floor, the true extent of McCoy’s injury was revealed.  He had been correct in assuming that the bullet had gone right through, for two small holes dotted either side of his medical tunic, the leaking blood having long took over any trace of the once pristine sleeve.  M’Benga cut through that too, despite McCoy’s protests.  “Just let me look, alright?  You might need surgery, this is bleeding pretty heavily.”

McCoy raised his voice.  “I said _I’m fine_ , dammit!  I don’t have time for or need surgery!  The bullet went right through and I can still move it!”  He rolled his shoulder around and wiggled his fingers at M’Benga.  “I need to focus on Jim right now, my arm can wait.” 

M’Benga was not going to back down.  “Listen to me, Doc.  At least let one of the nurses bandage and disinfect it while we prep the Captain for surgery.  You’re no good to him if you can’t work.”  He looked down at Jim.  “Think of Kirk, alright?”

_He’s right.  I can’t save him if I can’t use my arm properly._

_Hang on, Jim._

McCoy sighed with defeat.  “Fine.  But on one condition.  You prep him, M’Benga.  No one else.” 

The other doctor nodded.  “Of course.  I’ll take good care of him.”  M’Benga and two nurses gently lifted Kirk onto the stretcher while McCoy slowly rose from his position.   They covered the Captain with a crisp white sheet.  Blood immediately began to soak through it.  As he walked off the pad after Jim, his boots left bloody footprints on the floor.

Mak’ai offered assistance, gently grasping McCoy’s arm to steady him.  He patted her hand with his own.  “Not the welcome I suppose you were expecting, eh?”

She smiled.  “My feelings do not matter.  I am just relieved that Captain Kirk is back where you can help him efficiently.”

“Let’s hope so, Missy.  Come on.” 

Spock stopped him briefly, grabbing his right arm.  “Doctor, I will make my way to the bridge.  Please keep me informed on the Captain’s condition.”

McCoy nodded curtly and followed the stretcher out the door, barking orders as stunned crew members pushed themselves flush with the hallway walls to allow their Captain passage.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy had never been so happy to see his Sick Bay in all his life. 

M’Benga guided the stretcher into the surgical suite and immediately began to calibrate the waiting system to Kirk.  He then assisted the nurses in gently lifting the Captain onto the waiting biobed.  The display immediately lit up, Jim’s vitals painting a bleak picture on the wall screen.  Kirk let out a pitiful groan and tried to clutch his stomach with his uninjured arm. 

_Dangerously low blood pressure.  Erratic heart rhythm.  Blood count dropping.  Fever rising.  Oxygenation decreasing.  Brain function diminishing._

A nurse tried to steer McCoy to a biobed in the main bay to attend to his wound, but the Doctor vehemently refused.  He wasn’t going to leave Jim for a second, even if he did trust M’Benga with his own life.  Without a single word, he walked right past the bed and into surgery. 

“Shit, those have to be the worst vitals I’ve ever seen.  Ready a hypo with fifty milligrams of Tri-ox.”  McCoy scowled and stood next to the bed, beginning to tap commands into the computer.  A nurse handed him the hypo and he delivered the medication into Kirk’s neck.  He watched the screen intently as Jim’s blood-oxygen levels hardly rose.  “I’m staying.  His stats are way off.”

M’Benga shook his head.  “No way, Len.  A deal’s a deal.  I’ll take care of the Captain.”  He gently began removing the bandages from Kirk’s wounds.  “He’ll be ready and by the time you are.”

McCoy wasn’t going to leave Jim.  “The nurse can patch me up right here, Geoff.  His vitals are all over the place.”

M’Benga wasn’t backing down.  “You know that can’t happen.  I’m going to be initiating the sterile field in a minute.”  He rounded the bed and put a comforting hand on McCoy’s shoulder.  “Trust me, Len.  Go get patched up and come back.”  He moved back to the other side and began placing new surgical sponges on Kirk’s exposed abdominal wound, bright red blood immediately soaking through them.

McCoy exhaled deeply and conceded.  “Alright.  Just make sure to cross-check with his allergies before pushing any meds and…” 

Kirk’s breathing was labored as he fluttered in and out of consciousness.  He turned his head towards the sound of McCoy’s voice.  “Bones?  Can’t…see you.”

_Jesus, his vision’s going…_

_Gotta get more blood into him…_

McCoy leaned in close to Jim’s head.  “I’m right here, Jim.  You’re back on the ship.”

“ ‘terprise?”  Kirk seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.  “…knew you’d…get m’back…”

“M’Benga’s gonna get you ready for surgery and I’ll be right back.”

Kirk’s pleaded, his sightless eyes trying to scan for the Doctor.  “…stay…please don’ leave…” 

McCoy hated hearing Jim sound so scared.  “I gotta go get patched up, kid.  Took one in the arm.”

M’Benga gently pressed a hypospray of sedatives into the Captain’s neck and Jim’s eyes began to flutter shut as the medication pulled him under.  “…y’got hit?  So…sorry, Bones…’s my fault…”

McCoy fought with the wetness threatening to drip from his eyes.  “Nothin’s your fault.  Now quit fighting the meds so we can work.” 

“…lov…”  Kirk succumbed to the sedation and his body relaxed. 

M’Benga motioned for the attending nurses to begin prepping Kirk.  McCoy closed his eyes and willed himself not to fall.  Everything felt out of control, and the fact that he was going to leave Jim, even for a few minutes, tore at his heart.  He barely registered the nurse’s hand lightly grasping his arm, leading him to the main section of Sick Bay. 

M’Benga began giving orders.  “Nurse Allen, get a trauma analysis drawn.  Full chem panel and a CBC, I need to get a reading on just how much blood he’s lost.”  He then pried Kirk’s eyes open one at a time, flashing a small light into both.  “Pupils are a little sluggish.  Let’s get that respiratory field up quick, he needs more oxygen.”  He looked to McCoy.  “He didn’t hit his head, did he, Len?” 

McCoy shook his head.  “No.  His pupils reacted to light after the seizure.  I agree with your assessment, he needs more oxygen to his brain.  The Tri-ox didn’t work like I hoped it would.”  He wanted so badly to step in and take over, but he needed to get treated if he was going to be of any help to Jim.  M’Benga was more than capable of taking care of Kirk.

M’Benga cleared his throat.  “Len…go.  He’s in good hands.”  He pointed towards the door.

He hovered a few moments longer at Kirk’s bedside, watching as M’Benga readied him for respiratory support.  A nurse drew the requested blood samples while another started an intravenous line that would replenish his blood supply and keep Kirk sedated throughout the procedure.  Hypos could only do so much, and Jim was going to need a constant infusion of medications and fluids over the next few days.  Kirk’s vitals on the screen above his head fluctuated wildly.  His body temperature was steadily on the rise again, his heart beating erratically and his oxygen saturation dropping as his lungs desperately tried to keep his brain functioning. 

“M’Benga, he needs another dose of antibiotics.  That fever’s gonna creep up on you.” 

M’Benga acknowledged him with a flick of the wrist.  “I got this, trust me _._ ”   He tapped commands into the biobed.  “Prepare respiratory support.” 

A nurse pulled him by the arm towards the door, where he saw Mak’ai standing quietly.

“Will he survive, Doctor?”  Her voice was laden with concern.

McCoy looked back over his shoulder at Kirk’s still form.  “I don’t know, Mak’ai.  He’s in bad shape.”  He motioned for her to follow, and the door slid shut behind them.  The nurse tried to guide him to a biobed, but McCoy insisted that she treat his wound right there so he could see through the window.

He wasn’t getting any further away from Jim.

He and Mak’ai watched as the surgical staff went through the prep procedure.  As the biobed’s respiratory support system tried to take over for Jim’s lungs, his breathing became choppy and forced.

_Dammit, kid.  Don’t fight the biobed._

_Just let it help you._

M’Benga tapped a few commands into the respiratory unit and scowled as Kirk’s breathing continued to deteriorate.  “We’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way, the Captain’s not responding to biobed.”  He turned and tapped a small glowing button on a drawer, and it slid open silently.  He retrieved a thin tube.  Moving swiftly around to the head of the biobed, he carefully tipped Kirk’s neck back, gently opened his mouth and threaded the tubing down the Captain’s throat.  Within seconds, he had connected the other end to a hose emanating from a port in the back of the biobed, and Kirk’s chest began to rise and fall evenly.  He looked up and gave McCoy a faint smile through the window before moving back to Jim’ side to work.

 One of the nurses attached blood and various medications to an IV pump, while another carefully cleansed Kirk’s abdomen, chest and shoulder with an antiseptic solution.  She then did the same for his thigh before draping him with sterile sheets, holes cut out exposing the wounds.  M’Benga gave the order and the sterile field was erected, bathing the entire area around the biobed in an eerie pale blue light.  The overhead lights were turned on full intensity as they readied the room for surgery.

Kirk looked so fragile and small laying there, the only part of his body now exposed being his head.  McCoy wished he could see those blue eyes, hear Jim tell stories of epic bar fights, and flash that cocky smile at him. 

_I just want to hear your voice._

_Feel your arms around me._

_Keep you close forever._

_Protect you._

“He is a strong man, Leonard.  Kirk will survive.”  Mak’ai gently rubbed her hand up and down McCoy’s back. 

“He better.  I don’t think I can…”  He hesitated, his head drooping. 

Mak’ai patted his back with her hand.  “You don’t have to finish that thought.  I know what you’re trying to say.” 

McCoy just nodded wordlessly as the nurse applied an antiseptic gel to his wounds.  She reached for the dermal regenerator on a small tray beside them.  McCoy stopped her before she could start the sequence.  “No time for that, Nurse Bonham.  Just wrap it up tight.”

The nurse gave him a quizzical look.  “A-are you sure, Doctor?  It won’t take more than ten minutes.”

“The Captain doesn’t have ten minutes!”  McCoy immediately felt bad for snapping at her.  He sighed with exasperation.  “I’m sorry, Bonham.  Just…bandage it up so I can get to work.”

“Yes, Sir.”  She quickly wrapped a sterile gauze strip around his bicep, McCoy wincing as she pulled it tight. 

McCoy stared into the operating room, watching silently as Kirk hung on to a thread of life.

_I’m comin’ darlin._

_Gonna save you._

_I promise._

_Just hang on a little longer._

_For me…_

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

Spock wasn’t even three steps out of the turbolift before he was bombarded with questions. 

Uhura stood and was instantly by his side.  “The Captain…how is he?”

“Critical, Lieutenant.  Doctors McCoy and M’Benga are working to stabilize him before surgery.  They will update us when they are able.”   

Sulu was next to speak.  “What exactly happened, Sir?  If the Captain needs surgery…”

“Captain Kirk was shot multiple times with projectile weapons.  His condition deteriorated while planetside.”  Spock made his way to the Captain’s chair and sat.  “Lieutenant Uhura, please contact Starfleet and apprise them of the situation.”

“Yes Sir.”  She seated herself at her station.  Before she could contact Starfleet, a hail came from the capital city.  “We’re receiving a signal from the planet.”

“Onscreen.” 

The image of Ka’al flickered to life, a sinister crimson glow enveloping him.  He sat in a large chair, in front of a window overlooking the capital city.  Fires raged behind him, polluting the air with thick smoke.  “My men informed me that you made it back to your ship.  How unfortunate.”

“Ka’al.  Relinquish your claim on Xentia and surrender at once.”

Ka’al bellowed out a giant laugh.  “Surrender?  To you?  Don’t insult me, Vulcan.”  He drummed his clawed fingers on the tabletop.  “No, we will not be surrendering today, or anytime in the future…and certainly not to the Federation.  But I will take this opportunity to make an example of you and your beautiful ship.  Too bad your Captain isn’t around to see this.”  He flashed a malevolent grin as he motioned to someone off-screen with a flick of his wrist.  “I will simply kill not only your Captain, but the entire crew of your ship as well.  Starfleet never should have come to Xentia.”

Chekov’s console lit up.  “Sir, zey are charging some sort of ion cannon on ze surface.  I cannot say for sure, but I do not believe zat ze weapon vill be strong enough to damage ze ship.  Sensors indicate zat ze charge is minimal.”

Spock calmly gave his order, never acknowledging Ka’al.  “Raise shields, Ensign Chekov.  Full impulse power, Mister Sulu.  Move the ship out of range of their weapon.”

Ka’al laughed on the screen.  “You think you can run from me?” 

A volley of ion bursts erupted from the upper atmosphere, flying clear of the Enterprise and into space. 

Ka’al banged his fist on his desk.  “I _will_ kill you!  Fire again!  Fire everything!”

Spock tapped a few commands into the controls on the armrest.  “Set coordinates to the nearest Starbase, Mister Sulu.  Warp factor one.  Engage.”

The Enterprise shuddered momentarily and flashed into warp, leaving Xentia far behind.  Ka’al’s signal stayed viable just long enough for him to scream one more time before fizzling from the screen.

_“Cowards!”_

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy pulled his scrubs on, wincing as his arm muscles flexed under the bandage.  He exited his office and made his way towards the surgical suite.  Mak’ai was sitting on the edge of a biobed, quietly observing the hustle and bustle of the busy Sick Bay.  The medical staff acknowledged her with silent nods and a few smiles, but otherwise did not address her.  McCoy grabbed a set of scrubs out of a nearby closet and tossed them at her. 

“I think these should fit you. I picked big ones to make room for your spines.”

Mak’ai looked at him, confused.  “What are these for?”

“Surgical scrubs.  You came here to learn, right?  Might as well start now.”

Mak’ai stood.  “Are you sure, Doctor?  I do not want to interfere.”

 “Just stay back and out of the surgical field and you’ll be fine.”  He pointed to an empty Trauma Bay.  “You can get dressed in there, if you want privacy.  Hurry, though.”

She nodded and moved quickly to change clothes.  M’Benga exited the surgical suite, clad in similar attire.  “He’s ready, Len.  Respiratory support is functioning, blood is going in and his sedation is heavy.  His temp’s a little on the high side, but we’ve just got to watch it for now.  He’s as stable as we can get him.”

“Thanks, Geoff.”  McCoy watched as Mak’ai exited the trauma bay, gesturing towards her.  “That’s Mak’ai.  She was integral in saving the Captain.  She’s going to be observing.”

M’Benga smiled warmly.  “Welcome, Mak’ai.  Thank you for helping with the Captain.  We all owe you a great debt of gratitude.”

Mak’ai bowed, an embarrassed look on her face.  “Doctor McCoy saved him; I merely gave him a safe place to work.”

“Don’t let her fool you, M’Benga.  It’s because of her that we even made it out of the building.”  He headed to the operating room.  “Let’s get to it.”

The three walked to the suite, running their hands and arms under the sterilizer before entering the room.  McCoy motioned towards the window.  “Mak’ai, just stand there and you should be able to see everything.”  He handed her a mask.  Nurses held out gowns to both M’Benga and McCoy, tying them tight around their waists, then assisting with their gloves.  McCoy wrapped a mask around his face and turned towards Jim.

He looked awful.

Kirk’s arms were spread out from his body, strapped to armrests to make room for the surgeons when they began their work, his face now obscured by a drape hung from poles on either side of his head.   Numerous IV lines ran into both arms, carrying both blood products and medications into his system.  His chest rose and fell as the biobed forced air into his lungs via the tube in his trachea.  His skin looked gray from the massive blood loss.  McCoy hoped the blood infusing into his veins could counteract the shock fast enough.  He looked up to the screen above the table.  Jim’s vitals had stabilized somewhat, but were nowhere near perfect.  As if on cue, Kirk’s heart fluttered and skipped a beat, causing klaxons to wail.  A nurse adjusted the settings on one of the IV pumps and the warning alarm quieted as Jim’s heart rhythm calmed.

McCoy had to tell himself that this was just like every other time Jim found himself in this exact same room, in the same position with blood coursing into his body as fast as it was pouring out.  He would put him back together like always, and Jim would be driving him bananas in no time.

_Except it’s not the same._

_Everything’s changed._

_He loves me._

_I love him._

_I might lose him…_

_I can’t lose him…_

“Doctor McCoy?”  M’Benga readied a laser scalpel.  “Len?”

McCoy came back to reality and looked down at Jim lying on the table, oozing abdominal wound staring up at him.  He extended his hand and took the scalpel.  The steady beat of Kirk’s heart beeping away on the monitors calmed his emotions.  “Let’s work on this damn stomach wound first.”  He looked up at the digital clock on the vitals screen.   “Incision at oh-seven-thirty-six.”

McCoy carefully guided the scalpel across Jim’s abdomen, thankful that this time he was sedated.  He wouldn’t have to hear that awful scream again.  He sliced the existing wound open more, extending it from two inches to four.  A nurse handed him a retractor, which he placed in the cavity and cranked open.  Jim’s battered spleen stared up at him, a ragged, blackened hole from the cauterized bullet wound leaking blood.  He had known down on the planet that he was going to have to repair it better here on the ship, but never imagined the damage would still be so substantial. 

“You seein’ this alright, Mak’ai?”  His voice was drowned out slightly by a nurse suctioning blood from Kirk’s belly. 

“Yes, Doctor.  The human body is incredible.”

_Incredible?_

_More like fragile._

“He’s really bleeding.  M’Benga, clamp that vein right there.”  McCoy tapped the spot with his thumb.  “I think that one’s the culprit.  See if you can find a leak and repair it.”

Minutes ticked by, Jim’s vitals dipping more and more as he bled.  His body was weak.  McCoy swore under his breath, hands deep in Kirk’s abdomen.  For every bleeding vessel that he repaired, two more would pop up from God knows where.  

_Dammit, Jim!  I’m not a miracle worker!  You’ve gotta give me a little something!_  

A nurse wiped McCoy’s sweating brow with a dry cloth.  “Alright, I need a light directed right here.” McCoy pointed with his bloody finger at a space next to Jim’s spleen.  One of the overhead lights moved, focusing on his hand.  “Good.  Let’s get some suction on this bleeder so I can cauterize.”  The nurse did as she was told, but blood still seeped out from all directions.  McCoy was becoming irritated.  “I said suction, dammit!  The cavity’s still swimmin’!”

The nurse increased the suction power, only to have Jim’s blood flow match.  McCoy shook his head in disbelief.  “What the hell?  Where’s this blood coming from?  Clamp the splenic artery for second, let’s see if the bleeding stops.”  He put his cauterizer down on a tray next to him and used both hands to gently pry open the wound.  He scrutinized the area until he found what he was looking for.

“Are you kidding me, Jim?”  Digging with a tweezers, he lifted a small, sharp piece of shining metal from Jim’s abdomen, jutting out from the back of the damaged organ.  “Why didn’t you tell me you were hiding a piece of shrapnel in there?” 

_No wonder you started bleeding again._

_Christ, I’m sorry I didn’t figure this out sooner._

_You had better not falter now, Leonard._

_He can’t survive if you’re balls-deep in your own emotions._

McCoy dropped the shrapnel into a waiting bowl.  “Get that analyzed.  I’m sure the ballistics guys will be interested in their ammunition specs.  M’Benga, release the clamp.”  He reached for the cauterizer and held it against the new oozing hole in Kirk’s spleen.  He looked briefly towards Mak’ai.  “The bullet must have fragmented when it went in.  A shard was lodged in another area of the spleen.  I think that’s where the excess bleeding was coming from.”

A nurse gave a vitals update.  “Doctor, his temperature is rising.  One-hundred-two-point-six.  Heart rate is consistent but rapid.  Blood pressure is still dropping.”

McCoy didn’t need a nurse to tell him Jim’s heart was beating quickly.  He could feel his pulse underneath his fingertips as they brushed over arteries and organs.  He scowled as his eyes settled on Kirk’s damaged spleen.  It wasn’t pinking up like he had hoped it would after M’Benga removed the clamp.  He massaged it gently with his thumb and fingers, trying to help the blood perfuse back in. 

“Give him another dose of antibiotics, and bump up the vasopressors.  His pressure’s too damn low.”  McCoy looked up and over the sheet that was obscuring Jim’s face.  The kid looked so frail, his cracked lips parted slightly to allow room for the endotracheal tube.  He wanted so badly in that moment to drop his instruments and run behind the drape, to pull his fingers through Kirk’s hair and beg him not to leave him.

He just wanted to be able to make everything okay.

_C’mon kid._

_Fight._

As if his strong will had somehow gotten through to his unconscious friend, Kirk’s spleen began to get its color back, turning a deep shade of mauve.  McCoy stared at the organ intently for a long moment, making sure that Jim wasn’t going to pull another fast one on him and bleed all over again.  He watched as the inside of Jim’s abdominal cavity thrummed along with his heartbeat, veins and arteries thumping with vitality.  Everything expanded and contracted as Kirk’s lungs accepted each artificial breath from the biobed. 

McCoy allowed himself to sigh with relief.

He handed the nurse the used cauterizer and inspected the wound one last time.  He was relieved not to find any new bleeding vessels.  “Let’s close up so we can work on the thigh and shoulder.”

M’Benga offered his help.  “I’ll close, Len.  You start on the thigh, then we can both work on the shoulder.”

McCoy was hesitant.  He knew M’Benga was completely capable of starting a dermal regenerator and watching for bleeds, but his overprotectiveness for Kirk suddenly kicked in. 

_No._

_I’ll do it._

_I’ll do it all._

_You can’t._

_…take some damn help, for Christ’s sake._

He relented.  “Thanks, Geoff.  His skin’s sensitive, so keep the regenerator setting on the low end of the spectrum.  It’ll take longer to heal, but he’ll respond better that way.” 

M’Benga nodded with a smile.  “You got it, Doc.”  He went to work manually suturing the internal layers of muscle, fat and tissue with a device that closed the incisions with tiny dissolvable staples. 

McCoy felt confident as he watched his colleague’s nimble fingers put Jim’s abdominal cavity back together.  Turning his attention to Kirk’s thigh, he took a deep breath and began to check over the wound.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX      

 

 

Uhura watched Spock out of the corner of her eye. 

The acting Captain sat stoically in the command chair, studying his PADD intently.  He would look up every so often and gaze around the bridge, making sure everything was running smoothly.

She turned herself in her chair slightly to get a better look at him.  His uniform top was stained with blood.  He hadn’t had the time to change his clothes before coming to the bridge.  The sight of the crimson stains ripped at her heart.  She couldn’t even imagine what they had all gone through down on the planet.  She knew that Spock wouldn’t want to talk about what had happened, but she desperately wanted to help in some way. 

He seemed so unfazed. 

_“Captain Kirk was shot multiple times with projectile weapons.  His condition deteriorated while planetside.”_

He stayed strong and emotionless in front of the crew, updating them with just enough information to satiate their hunger for facts, but not enough to fan the flames of rumors.  But Uhura knew different.

The way he looked at her when he came back to the bridge—he tried to hide it.  But she had learned to pick up on his tells. 

He was struggling.

Since the destruction of Vulcan and the loss of his mother, she and Spock had been privately working on accessing his emotions, long suppressed by his Vulcan upbringing.  He acknowledged that allowing himself to feel at certain times would not be detrimental to his well-being.  Logically, he had told her, it would help to strengthen his bond not only with his own hybrid mind, but possibly with Uhura as well.

She decided that now was one of those times when he needed to get in touch with his emotions.

Even if he didn’t realize it.

“Commander Spock?” 

He looked up and made eye contact with her.  “Yes Lieutenant?”

“A word please?  _Sir?_ ” 

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Certainly Lieutenant.”  He rose from his seat, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked. 

She flashed him a warm smile as he approached and patted the empty seat beside her.  “Please, sit.”

“I will stand, thank you.”

Uhura scowled at him.  She lowered her voice to a low, seductive growl.  “ _Spock…sit down.”_   He wordlessly complied.  “Do you need to talk about what happened on the planet?  Are you okay?”

“I have already updated the bridge crew on the status of Captain Kirk.”

She pursed her lips and reached out, her fingertips ghosting over his knuckles.  “That’s not what I meant, and you didn’t answer my entire question.   I know it must have been awful down there.  I can only imagine what happened.  If you want to talk ab-““

He cut her off.  “Nyota, now is neither the time nor place for this discussion.”

“I think it is, Spock.”  She tipped her head and smiled softly. 

“It is not, Lieutenant.  Private conversations, as this one most decidedly will become, are meant to be held away from the ears of the general public.”  He moved to stand.  “Now, if that is all, I must return to my duties.”

She sighed and shook her head.  “Alright, but this isn’t over.  If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Nyota.  I will consider your offer.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

 

“He just has to make things difficult, doesn’t he?”  McCoy grunted, shaking his head.  He looked down at Kirk’s exposed shoulder in disbelief.  After nearly an hour of repairing the internal vascular damage in his shoulder, he and M’Benga had discovered that the bullet was embedded so deeply into the shoulder blade that extracting it from the front would be impossible.  They found themselves having to close the wound without removing the bullet.

“How do you want to do this, Len?”  M’Benga cocked his head as he tried to come up with a viable solution.  “We’re going to have to flip him to get at the slug.”

McCoy huffed.  “We can’t put pressure on his gut.”  He tapped his foot and thought for a long moment, all while watching Jim’s chest rise and fall evenly.  Finally, he came up with a solution.  “We’re gonna have to prop him up on his side and work from there.  It’s the only way to protect the abdominal wound.”

M’Benga approved.  “We could stack sterile blankets under his back to give us added support and height.”

McCoy nodded his agreement.  “Nurse Allen, get as many as you can from the sterile cabinet.  M’Benga and I are going to roll Captain Kirk.  When we get him situated, shove as many as you can under him.”  McCoy slid his hands under Kirk’s body, feeling the warmth of his skin through his gloves.  M’Benga placed one hand carefully on the Captain’s injured shoulder and the other on his hip, gripping firmly.   “On three, Geoff.  Roll him towards you.  One…two…three!” 

The two men gently manipulated Kirk’s limp body onto his side and the nurse swiftly stacked sterile blankets, seven in all, under him.  McCoy and M’Benga eased Kirk back down, his shoulder now elevated off of the table.  McCoy stood back and analyzed Jim’s body position.  It wasn’t quite how he wanted it, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.  He couldn’t raise Jim any higher, or he would risk compromising the breathing tube.

“This’ll have to do.”  McCoy quickly patted Jim on the shoulder before reaching for new instruments.  M’Benga rounded the table to join him at his side.  Mak’ai had been allowed to move closer, and now stood at the foot of the biobed. She had been given a surgical gown so she could be inside the sterile field.  McCoy waved her in with his hand.  “Well, c’mon now.  Scoot in so you can see.”

A nurse stepped in and quickly wiped Kirk’s back down with an antiseptic.  When she was finished, McCoy grabbed for a laser scalpel and began cutting a seven-inch-long line into the soft tissue of Jim’s shoulder. 

_Gonna leave one hell of a scar, kid._

He exposed the bone seconds later, through the gaping incision, with the help of a retractor. “M’Benga, give us a quick scan to pinpoint the location of the bullet.”

M’Benga waved a small scanner over the bleeding wound, McCoy intently watching the vitals screen as the device relayed its information.  Within seconds, a small oblong shape appeared on the screen, right in the middle of the shoulder blade.  McCoy tapped his index finger against the bone where the slug rested, just underneath.  “Right there.  Let’s get that little bastard out so we can finish.  Jim’s been under too long.”  He frowned at his vitals.  “His heart’s having trouble.”

M’Benga set the scanner down, then handed McCoy a small laser borer.  “Looks like it’s only two millimeters under the surface of the bone.  Twenty seconds with the laser and we should see it.”

McCoy activated the device and a green shaft of light began to dig a hole in Jim’s scapula.  In no time, the end of the shining silver slug was visible.  McCoy turned off the laser and leaned over to peer into the hole.  “Damn thing’s really jammed in there.  I’m not gonna be able to get it out just by pullin’.” 

_Just when I think this is going to go smoothly, Jim._

_Remind me to yell at you when you wake up._

_…when you wake up…_

_…when you wake up I’m kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before._

_I’m never letting you out of my sight again._

M’Benga offered a solution.  “We could break the bone.”

McCoy scowled.  That would mean more recovery time for Jim.  Not only would a longer recovery be physically taxing on Kirk, but he’d be trying to escape Sick Bay any chance he got.  But he knew M’Benga was right.  It was the only way to get the bullet out.

“You’re right, Geoff.”  He extended his hand towards the nurse.  “Number seven bone laser, please.”

Mak’ai had a question.  “Doctor McCoy, how will you repair the bone once you’ve removed the bullet?”

McCoy answered while drawing the white-hot laser through the shoulder blade, splitting it down the middle and through the bullet hole.  “We’ve got bone-setting technology that can be implanted in the body.  I’ll place a few small regenerators over the break and let them work for a week or so.  They’re easily removed.  He’ll be back to his old shit in no time.”

Mak’ai shook her head in amazement.  “Your medical technology is simply stunning, Leonard.  Is there nothing you can’t do?”

_Of course._

_I can’t bring back the dead._

“We have our limitations, but medical science is growing by leaps and bounds every day.  You’ll learn all about it at the Academy.”  He switched off the laser and placed it in the nurse’s waiting hand.  He reached into the wound and placed both hands around Jim’s shoulder blade.  Without hesitation, he snapped it in two at the fracture, and the slug popped out.  M’Benga grabbed it with a tweezers and dropped it into a small bowl at his side.

McCoy worked swiftly, piecing the two halves back together like a puzzle.  As he held the two sides of Jim’s scapula together, M’Benga attached three small osteo-regenerators at intervals, anchoring them with tiny screws.  Once in place, McCoy programmed the settings and activated the devices.  They sprang to life, a faint yellow glow emanating from underneath each one as they began to knit bone back together.

McCoy exhaled deeply, rocking his neck back and forth trying to pop it.  The room seemed to quiet for a moment, even though the nurses and other doctors were talking amongst themselves, caring for Kirk.  All of a sudden, all he could hear was the steady mechanical breaths that the biobed was forcing into Jim’s lungs.  He looked down at his bloody hands, never wanting to run his fingers through Kirk’s hair so much in his life.  Even though Jim was sedated and not in any pain, McCoy still wanted to be able to comfort him.  To take away the anguish that he knew was coming once the pain meds wore off.

Once Jim woke up.

_All you have to do is wake up._

_Show me those heavenly blue eyes._

_Squeeze my hand._

_Tell me you love me again._

“Len?  You want me to close the shoulder up?”

McCoy snapped back to reality.  “I’ve got it, Geoff.  Why don’t you scrub out and get the SICU Bay ready.”

M’Benga gave him a skeptical look.  “You sure, Doc?  You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine.  Really.  We should be out in thirty minutes.”  He peered at Mak’ai over his mask.  “Go with M’Benga.  He’ll show you the ins and outs of preparing a surgical intensive care room.”

Mak’ai complied.  “Of course, Doctor McCoy.  I would love to see more of how your Sick Bay works.” 

M’Benga eyed McCoy one more time before conceding.  “She’ll be in good hands.”  He beckoned for Mak’ai to follow as he exited the room.  McCoy could see them both shed their gowns; M’Benga’s stained with blood, as they entered the main Bay.

He looked down at Jim’s still body.  Sighing—he didn’t know if it was from exhaustion or relief—he began to close the incision on Kirk’s back.

_Almost done, darlin’._

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy watched as the nurses hovered around Kirk.  He had been out of surgery for a little more than twenty minutes and was—remarkably—stable.  He was still intubated, McCoy wanting to keep his body as stress-free as possible. If the biobed was helping to keep strain on Jim’s already weakened system at a minimum, well, he didn’t want to mess with a good thing.  He’d check his respiratory function in a couple of hours, then extubate. 

As the nursing staff adjusted medications, monitored vitals and attempted to make their Captain as comfortable as possible, McCoy felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion setting in.  He looked at his chronometer.  It was almost one in the afternoon.  From his calculations—not counting the hour long cat-nap he had taken back on Xentia—he had been awake for almost thirty-two hours.  His adrenaline rush was fading. 

He approached the biobed, one of the nurses moving out of the way for him.  He lifted the thin sheet covering Kirk’s torso to inspect the regenerators.  Both the unit on his abdomen and on his leg were functioning perfectly, and Jim would be left with little more than a thin pink scar by the time they were done.  The shoulder wound had been harder to close up, the implanted osteo-regenerators making external dermal regenerators impossible to use.  So, McCoy had no choice but to manually suture the gigantic incision, ensuring that Jim would be left with a large scar.  The scar could be softened at a later date, but would, unfortunately, always remain.

A reminder of that horrible day.

“He’s stable, Doctor.  Blood pressure is getting close to the normal range again and his heart has calmed.  His oxygenation is ninety-nine percent and the biobed indicates his pain levels are within the tolerable range.”  She offered a caring smile.  “We’ve got one hell of a fighter in our Captain.”

“You got that right.”  McCoy tapped a few commands into the biobed.  “He’s got a guardian angel, that’s for damn sure.”

The nurse chuckled.  “He most certainly does, Doctor.  You.”  She entered in a few notes in the Kirk’s records before returning the PADD to the file in the end of the bed.  “I’m just going to take some post-op blood samples and then I’ll be out of your hair.”  As she busied herself with the blood draw, McCoy thought about what she had said.

_“He most certainly does, Doctor.”_

_“You.”_

He watched as she attached a small syringe to the existing IV catheter in Jim’s arm and removed a few vials full of the crimson liquid.  As the blood filled the tubes, he couldn’t stop himself from fixating on it. 

There had been blood everywhere.  Even Spock had been covered in it.  The metallic smell had permeated his nostrils, seeped into the fibers of his clothes.  He had watched as Jim’s life cascaded out of his body and onto the floor of that dingy room, dangerous militants just feet outside the door.

_…and the guardian angel could do nothing to stop it, save for a few hasty bandages, tied tight with ordinary rope._

_Some angel I am._

_I couldn’t keep him safe._

_I dug a bullet out of his guts with no anesthetic._

_He nearly fried his brain with that damn fever._

_I didn’t find the internal bleeding until it was almost too late._

“All done, Doctor. I’ll have the lab technician send the results to your PADD.”  She put the vials in a tote and left the room with a smile.

He approached Kirk, the automated breaths from the biobed shaking his body as it forced air into his lungs.  McCoy adjusted the position of the flexible tube between Kirk’s lips, gently lifting the adhesive and repositioning it on his cheek.  His fingers lingered there for a long moment, the sensitive pads of his fingertips brushing against the light stubble that had grown on Jim’s chin.  He looked down at his hands—hands that had been inside Jim’s body not more than forty-five minutes prior—and tried to convince himself that it would be the last time.

_No more, Jim._

_Please._

_I can’t keep doing this._

_One of these days I’m not going to be able to save you…_

McCoy let his hand trail down Jim’s neck, his fingertips hovering over the vein there.  He gently pressed his index finger against the area, the vigorous thump underneath reassuring him that the younger man’s heart was really still beating.  He stared down at Jim, silently willing him to wake up.  McCoy knew that wasn’t possible, however, as Kirk was still heavily sedated.

_Can’t let you wake up yet, Jim._

_You need to rest._

_Doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see those baby blues, though._

He fought the urge to check Jim’s neuro functions by prying open one of his eyes.  There was no need to at this stage in the game, other than for his own selfish reasons.  Kirk’s brain was sluggish due to the heavy doses of sedatives, and his eyes would more than likely be rolled back into his head.

He abruptly removed his hand from Jim’s neck when he heard a throat clear at the door.  Mak’ai was standing there, still in her scrubs.

“May I come in, Doctor?”

McCoy extended his hand.  “Of course.”  He looked back to Jim.  “He’s not doing so bad, considering what he’s been through in the last day.”

Mak’ai moved in close, resting a clawed hand on Kirk’s foot through the blankets.  “Is he in any pain?”

McCoy shook his head.  “No.  He’s so far under right now that we’ve got to keep him on respiratory support.”  He moved closer to the head of the biobed and pointed to a cluster of numbers on the screen.  “You see this number?  Ninety-eight?  That’s his blood oxygen level.  Did you learn about the safe range for humans?”

Mak’ai answered without hesitation.  “Between ninety-five and one-hundred percent.”

McCoy smiled.  “Seems like you paid attention.  Even though his level is normal, because he’s drugged up somethin’ fierce, his brain isn’t able to relay the message to breathe to his lungs.  That’s why we’ve got him on the vent.  Once we dial back the pain meds, we’ll begin weaning him off.” 

Mak’ai rounded the bed so she could face McCoy.  “This biobed is fascinating.  Is it fully supporting the Captain?”

McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. “For the most part.  The intravenous lines are infusing medications, blood and fluids into his body but everything else is coming from the bed.  It has sensors that monitor his heart, breathing, temperature and brain function. I can program it to run a cooling cycle is his fever gets high again, and I can even weigh him, see?”  He pressed a button, and Kirk’s weight appeared on the screen.  “One-hundred-seventy-one pounds.  Pretty typical for a man his height and muscular build.”

She sighed heavily.  “It breaks my heart to think that my fellow Xentians will never have such wonderful medical technology—or anything of value academically speaking—ever again as long as Ka’al and his cronies stay in power.”

“Ka’al may be in power now, but men like him usually get overthrown quickly.  Who knows, by the time that happens, Starfleet may have decided to intervene.”  Jim’s heart skipped a couple of beats, causing the bio monitors to beep wildly.  McCoy scowled. “Dammit, Jim!  Knock that shit off!” 

Mak’ai leaned in close to Kirk’s ear and whispered calmly in her native tongue.  Jim’s vitals quickly stabilized.

“He must really like your voice.  Before we met you, I’m the only one he’d calm for.” 

Mak’ai laid her head on Kirk’s pillow for a moment, her claws resting in his hair.  Her blue glow illuminated Jim’s face.  “Not only do Xentians give off a radiant light, we also emit low-level beta waves that serve as another form of communication for us.  Captain Kirk may be responding to them.”

“Beta waves, huh?  Well, it seems like you’ve just found the subject for your graduate thesis.”

Mak’ai smiled.  “I have to get accepted to the Academy first, Doctor.”

“Don’t you worry about that.  Consider it already taken care of.”  He winked at her, then rubbed his eyes.  Damn, he was tired.

Mak’ai stood up.  “You’re exhausted, Leonard.  I’ll leave you to get some rest.”  She made her way to the door.  “I’ve been given temporary quarters.  The generosity of the crew is amazing.”

McCoy nodded.  “Yeah, well, you can thank Jim for that.  He just exudes this energy…and the crew can’t help but absorb some of it.”  He left Kirk’s side for a moment, approaching Mak’ai and extending his hand to shake.  “I’ll be by later to see how you’re doing.  Thank you for all you’ve done for him…and me.”

Mak’ai shook her head.  “No handshakes here, Leonard.  You are the closest thing I have to family now.”  She spread her arms wide and embraced him.  “Get some rest.  You can’t take care of him properly if you’re not able to keep your eyes open.”

McCoy allowed himself to melt into her body, not caring that his forearms were being pricked by the short spines lining her back.  Everything in that moment faded:  the mechanical whine of the ventilator, the background noise of Sick Bay, even the soft, constant beep of Jim’s heart monitor.  The stress of the last thirty hours crept up on him.  He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but willed himself not to let them go.

_Not now, Len.  Wait ‘till you’re alone._

 Swallowing hard, he squeezed Mak’ai gently before backing away.  “Thanks, Missy.  Go on now.”

She smiled, exposing her lines of sharp teeth, before she turned and headed out the door.  A Yeoman was waiting to escort her to her suite.

McCoy exhaled deeply and went back to Jim’s side.  He was just about to pull up a chair when he heard the door hiss open again.

_Jesus, what now?_

“Doctor, I would like to inquire about the Captain’s status.”  Spock stood in the doorway.

“C’mon in, it’s not like you’ll wake him up.”  He looked up at the Captain’s vitals.  Sedation levels were still heavy. Spock approached.  “He’s in bad shape, that’s for sure, but still fighting.  We found a piece of shrapnel lodged in another lobe of his spleen, that’s what was causing the secondary round of bleeding.  M’Benga and I cleaned that mess up, then had one hell of a time with the shoulder.”  McCoy shook his head.  “Had to snap his shoulder blade in half to get the slug out.  He’s gonna be pissed…that recovery’s gonna be a bitch.”

“Will he survive?”

McCoy nodded.  “Yeah.  But he’s gonna be on his ass for quite a while.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. 

“Doctor, you are exhausted.”

McCoy gave him a withering look.  “Tell me something I don’t know.”  He watched as Kirk’s blood pressure began to fluctuate.  Scowling, he adjusted the settings on the intravenous medication.  “I’m never going to be able to get any rest if he keeps doing shit like this.” 

_Just stay stable for an hour, kid._

_That’s all I ask._

“Doctor, I suggest that you allow M’Benga or one of the other residents to oversee Captain Kirk’s care for the time being.  If you continue to work while fatigued, you will not only do a disservice to the Captain, but to yourself as well.”

McCoy angrily spat back.  “Well, you just have all the damn answers, don’t you?”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “I did not mean to imply that you are incapable of caring for the Captain, forgive me if I have offended you.  I merely observed that you are nearing the point of collapse.  If you are not well-rested you will not be able to perform your duties.”

McCoy brushed him off.  “I’ll rest when he lets me.”  Jim’s heart skipped another beat and McCoy grumbled at the man in the biobed.  “Seriously, Jim?”  He looked to Spock, annoyed.  “Get out of here, wouldja?  You’re starting to annoy me and I think Jim’s picking up on it.”

Spock was unfazed by McCoy’s rudeness.  “Certainly, Doctor.  Please keep me advised on the Captain’s condition.  I will return later.”  He clasped his hands behind his back and strode out.

_Finally alone._

McCoy fought the urge to lock the door.  He just wanted to be alone with Jim.  He rested his eyes on the battered and bruised man on the biobed.  Jim looked terrible.  Bandages, dried blood, regenerators—and that damn breathing tube.  He wished M’Benga wouldn’t have had to use it, but Jim and his stubborn lungs had given him no choice.  McCoy squinted at Jim’s breathing readout on the screen, his eyes aching in their sockets.  His lung function was improving. 

_Let’s make a deal.  Eight more hours and I’ll take that tube out._

_You’ve gotta stay under for longer than that, though._

_I don’t want you to be in pain any longer than you have to be…_

His legs felt like jelly.  McCoy knew that he needed to sit, or he’d fall.  He pulled a very uncomfortable-looking chair next to the right side of the bed and sat, wincing as his throbbing muscles protested.  He leaned his head back and let it droop against his shoulders. 

_Can’t believe I’m really back on the ship._

_I thought we’d never…_

_Jim…_

He leaned forward and took Jim’s hand in his own.  He took a quick look around to make sure no one was about to come in the SICU. 

He started talking.

“Dunno if you can hear me, darlin’. You made it through the surgery.  M’Benga and I had to work our asses off, y’know.”  Jim’s hand felt so warm in his own.  He stroked his thumb over Kirk’s fingers. 

“You really scared the living shit out of me, you little bastard.”  He sighed.  “I…can’t keep doing this, Jim.  I almost lost you.  Like _really_ almost lost you.  Jim, I…”  McCoy shook his head looked down at Kirk’s hand in his own.  “…life without you would mean nothing.  The harsh reality of that stabbed me in the heart when you were bleeding out in my arms.”

_Your blood was so warm._

_Your eyes started to lose their sparkle._

_Your voice was feeble as you tried to hang on._

_You looked at me with fear and regret in your eyes._

_And all I could do was watch…_

_…helpless…_

He watched as Jim’s head rocked slightly from the force of the mechanized breaths.  He wanted to bad to remove the tube so he could kiss Kirk back to him.  He decided on the next best thing.  Leaning forward on his seat, he gently placed his lips on Jim’s cheek.  He lingered there for a long moment, disappointed that the soft scent that Kirk’s hair once held was now overtaken by the overpowering aroma of blood and antiseptic. 

“You’re gonna fight with all you got, y’hear me kid?  Because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you weasel yourself out of this mess we’ve created by dyin’.”  He could feel his eyes drooping shut.  “This is forever, Jim…you and me.  I screwed up my last relationship big time, and I don’t intend for the same mistakes to happen again.”

He squeezed Kirk’s hand once more before leaning back.  Never releasing his grip, he scooted the chair closer one-handed and settled down into the seat. 

“Goddammit, Jim.  I love you so much it hurts.”  McCoy’s eyes began to slip shut.  He wasn’t going to fight them anymore.

Sleep overtook him moments later; Jim’s hand nestled in his own. 


	12. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Twelve

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Twelve

**The Next Day**

                McCoy stood in his sonic shower, wishing that there was scalding hot water pelting his aching body.  He desperately wanted to feel the heat in his muscles, to see the dried blood on his skin rinse down the drain instead of vaporizing into the air around him. He knew Jim had an actual shower in his quarters—Captain’s privilege—but had decided against invading his private space.  Even though Kirk allowed him to use it whenever he wanted, usually when he was dead tired and in desperate need of a real shower, Leonard didn’t want to intrude.  It would feel weird to be there without Jim.  He steadied himself, pressing his palm firmly against the glass door, wincing as he applied too much pressure to his healing arm.  But McCoy didn’t move, and instead pushed harder.  He welcomed the pain. 

Pain meant he was alive.

_Alive._

_Jim’s alive._

_We made it back to the ship._

_He’s still got a lot of fighting to do._

_I’ll help him._

_Like always…_

He closed his eyes, Jim’s comatose image appearing in the darkness—just as it had been when he woke up hours after falling asleep in that damn chair…

 

… _‘What the hell?  Where’d this blanket come from?’_

_The soft fabric tickled his chin, where it had been gently tucked around his body.  He pulled it away, letting it fall to his lap.  He pressed his body into the back of the seat, stretching his spine in an attempt to release the pent-up stiffness that came from sleeping in a very uncomfortable chair.  His eyes fell on Jim, quiet and peaceful._

_Well, as peaceful as a man could be with a tube shoved down his throat._

_He leaned forward, rolling his shoulders as he let his head droop for a moment.  He stared at the surgical booties still covering his shoes.  They were coated in Jim’s blood.  He removed them and tossed them in the trash container.  Placing a hand on his neck to rub away the ache left behind by his sleeping arrangements, he looked up at Jim once again._

_His color was good, no longer pale from blood loss.  McCoy could tell the bandage on his shoulder had been changed, small numbers written in black marker on the pristine white fabric telling him the exact time the nurse had been in.  It was a somewhat archaic routine he had installed in Sick Bay months back, but one he liked to keep in practice.  McCoy would always rather see something right in front of his face—even if it meant a nurse having to inscribe a time on a bandage—than have to go into computer records._

_‘The time on the bandage…it couldn’t be right.  Could it?’_

**_17:39: cleaned and dressed.  Leonhart_ **

_‘Five-thirty-nine?’_

_McCoy looked up at the clock on Jim’s vitals screen.  It was now past eleven._

_‘How the hell did I not wake up?  And how did I sleep for ten hours?’_

_The doctor stood and stretched his arms over his head and extended them back, wincing as his shoulder popped.  He brought his left arm across his body to inspect his wound.  Carefully unwrapping the bandage, he scowled at the holes the bullet had left.  Because he hadn’t allowed the nurse to use a regenerator, the wounds were ugly.  They were beginning to close up—the slug had been small—and were scabbing around the edges.  He flexed his bicep, grimacing as the skin became taught.  Instead of releasing the pressure, he clenched the muscles tighter, inhaling a sharp breath as the pain radiated through his arm.  He held it for a long moment, his breathing becoming erratic as the nerves in his arm responded to the growing anguish._

_‘If Jim had to endure you diggin’ in his guts for bullets, you can handle this.’_

_McCoy finally unclenched his arm, letting it fall to his side.  After taking a moment to replace the bandage, he gently brought his hand to Jim’s forehead, raking his fingers through the younger man’s hair.  He looked around, making sure he was alone, and bent to plant a light kiss on Kirk’s cheek._

_“Love you, Jim.”_

_Standing upright once again, he went about checking Kirk’s vitals.  Jim was still sedated, although as he went through the day’s records, McCoy noted that M’Benga had lowered the sedative dose significantly.  The pressure entering his lungs from the vent was diminishing by the hour.  By McCoy’s calculations, Jim could be taken off support by tomorrow afternoon.  He scanned through the rest of the records.  Bleeding was at a minimum, regenerators were working at full capacity and Jim hadn’t required any blood transfusions or additional medications. McCoy had been right about the infection as well.  It was bacterial and had taken up residence in Kirk’s bloodstream, but nothing his arsenal of antibiotics couldn’t handle.  At last check, Jim’s white blood cell count was on the decrease.  McCoy lifted the sheet covering Kirk and inspected the abdominal wound.  The battery charge on the regenerator was about to go.  He turned for a moment to grab another from the cabinet beside him.  Carefully removing the previous device, he intently scrutinized the area.  Jim’s skin was healing, a thick pink line forming over the incision site.  It would take a couple more days of therapy, but McCoy was confident that when the time was up, Kirk would be left with little more than a thin scar.  He cleansed the area quickly with a sterile solution before placing the new regenerator on Kirk’s belly, rising with every deep breath being forced into his lungs.  He allowed his hand to linger for a long moment, moving it to touch the muscular, exposed skin of Kirk’s abdomen, Jim’s body heat radiating onto the palm of his hand._

_‘Warm.  Alive.’_

_He grabbed a small penlight from the cart next to the biobed and gently opened one of Kirk’s eyes.  Crystal blue stared up at him, Jim’s black pupil contracting as the light passed over it.  He released the eyelid and it fell back into place.  After testing Kirk’s other eye, he allowed himself a sigh of relief._

_‘Lookin’ good, kid.  You’re moving in the right direction.’_

_M’Benga arrived, toting a steaming cup of coffee.  “Mornin’ Len.  Or should I say, night?”_

_McCoy graciously accepted the mug and sipped.  “Goddamn, Geoff.  This coffee is awful.”_

_M’Benga laughed.  “What did you expect?  Freshly ground and brewed to perfection?  Replicator special, like always.”_

_McCoy snickered into his cup and looked back to Jim.  “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?_

_M’Benga approached and stood across from McCoy.  “We tried—once.  You didn’t even budge.  So, one of the nurses covered you and we decided to let you come back on your own.”_

_“He didn’t give you any trouble?”_

_M’Benga shook his head.  “Nope.  I guess he saves it for you.”  The doctor yawned and rubbed his hand over his face._

_McCoy set his mug down.  “Get outta here, wouldja, Geoff?  I’ll take Gamma shift.”  Truthfully, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but his colleague was looking pretty ragged.  It was the least he could do after the miracles that M’Benga had helped him pull off in the surgical suite._

_M’Benga seemed hesitant, but relieved.  “You sure?  You’ve been through a hell of a lot these last couple of days.”_

_McCoy dismissed him with a flick of his wrist.  “Go on, now.  As long as he doesn’t start somethin’, I’ll be fine.”  He looked to Jim._

_M’Benga sighed.  “Thanks, Len.  I’ll be back before Alpha starts.”  He turned to leave.  “Comm me if you need me.”_

_The night had gone smoothly, Kirk needing very little attention.  Sick Bay was completely deserted, save for the few nurses assigned to the graveyard shift.  McCoy busied himself catching up on reports and files, never leaving Jim’s side.  Twice he had reduced Jim’s medications, hoping that by afternoon, Kirk would be able to breathe on his own._

_Then all he had to do was wake up._

_‘Gotta show me you’re still the same ol’ pain in the ass.’_

_McCoy had even managed to get in another cat nap, leaving him surprisingly well-rested when M’Benga came back early the next morning.  He was sitting at Kirk’s side, going over his records on his PADD._

_“You look like shit, Len.”  M’Benga offered a smile and approached McCoy.  When he got close enough, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.  “Don’t smell too great, either.”_

_McCoy rolled his eyes.  “Sorry, I was too busy saving his life to shower.”  He motioned to Kirk before turning to look at his reflection in the mirror-finished cabinet beside him.  M’Benga was right:  he looked awful.  Puffy, dark bags lined his lower eyelids, his brows drooped.  Kirk’s blood was still caked in his hair where he had dragged a bloody hand through it more than twenty-four hours ago.  Salt-and-pepper whiskers covered his face.  He could only imagine what his breath smelled like._

_‘Goddamn, I look like a haggard old man.’_

_M’Benga moved to the other side of Kirk’s bed and began looking at his vitals.  “Urine output looks great, kidneys and liver are functioning at capacity, blood count is returning to normal.  Only a few more clicks down on the sedatives and he’ll start to come back.”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “Looks like he’s going to do it again.”_

_“Do what again?”_

_M’Benga chuckled.  “Cheat death.  He’s like a cat, only with way more lives.”_

_“Yeah, well, let’s hope he doesn’t run out.”  McCoy tapped a keycode into the IV pump, decreasing the sedation dosage once again.  “Let’s give him two hours with this setting and then dial it back again.”_

_M’Benga agreed.  “You got it, Len.  Now go get freshened up.  It’ll do you some good to get out of here for a little while.”_

_McCoy knew he was right, but didn’t want to leave.  Not when the only thing that mattered to him was still unconscious and intubated._

_“Don’t make me force you, Doc.”  M’Benga smiled._

_McCoy relented.  “Alright.  But promise you’ll comm me if anything changes.”  He reached to touch Kirk’s face, but pulled his hand back before M’Benga could notice.  He balled his fingers into a fist.  He so badly wanted to caress his cheek and kiss him before he left.  Just to let Jim know that he’d be back. But he wasn’t ready to let on about their relationship yet, and certainly not without Kirk’s permission.  It wasn’t that M’Benga wouldn’t be anything less than understanding and accepting, but it wasn’t his place alone to decide when they would make themselves public.  Instead, he patted Jim’s forearm._

_‘I’ll be back soon, darlin’.  Gotta go get cleaned up.  Don’t do anything dumb, okay?’_

_He reluctantly walked away, silently leaving Jim in M’Benga’s more than capable hands.  He fought the urge to look back through the SICU window on his way out…_

The shower cycle ended and Leonard slowly opened his eyes.  No longer was he in Sick Bay, but in his darkened quarters.  He stood in the stall for a moment, taking in the silence of his cabin.  Just three days ago, he had stepped out of the same shower to the sound of his holoscreen blaring with some Earth show about killer ants.  Jim had made himself at home while McCoy had cleaned up after a long day in Medical.

_“Hey, Bones!  Check these things out, they’re eating a bird!”_

At the time McCoy had scolded the Captain for barging in, even going so far as threatening to change his keycode, eliciting a pout from his counterpart.  Now, he longed for the sound of the show, or any sign of Jim’s presence.  It was too quiet for him.

McCoy stepped out of the sonic shower and pulled on a pair of briefs.  After brushing two days’ worth of grime from his teeth, he turned to his reflection. He scrutinized himself in the mirror, noticing that the heat of the sonic shower had diminished the bags under his eyes somewhat.  He leaned in close and pulled his lower eyelid down, scowling that his eyes were still bloodshot.  He scrubbed his hand over his scruffy face before reaching for his razor.  Jim had always poked fun at him at the Academy for using an actual steel razor, and not an electric one.  McCoy had always retorted that it got a closer shave and to shut the hell up, eliciting more ribbing from the young cadet.  Now, as he dragged it over his face, he yearned to be sharing that tiny bathroom with Kirk, just like they had done at the Academy.  Jim would inevitably always end up taking over most of the counter with all his damn hair products, aftershaves and whatever else he used to attract God-knows-who…or what.  And Leonard would just scowl and push it out of the way, waiting not-so-patiently for Jim to get out of his hair.

_When this is all over, you can leave your shit anywhere you want, kid._

After finishing, he walked out into his bedroom and stole a glance at the comm screen, making sure he hadn’t missed a message from M’Benga before stepping into his pants.  He grabbed a crisp blue medical tunic out of his closet and tugged it over his head, wincing as his arm bent to make it through the sleeve.  His stomach rumbled as his hands brushed over his abdomen.

_Christ, how long has it been since I’ve eaten?_

He attached his insignia to his shirt, then pulled the bottom hem straight, evening out any wrinkles.  Grabbing his chronometer, he exited the bedroom and decided to start a pot of coffee.

It was no secret that the coffee aboard the Enterprise was horrid.  Opinions ranged from it tasting like swill to nuclear waste.  Non-replicated coffee was a luxury aboard a starship.  With power supplies limited and heavily monitored, small personal appliances were almost never allowed.  So, when Jim had presented McCoy with a small coffee maker and a power adapter for his last birthday— _“don’t ask, Bones…”—_ he had been so grateful that he didn’t have to drink the terrible artificial brew any more than he had to.  He kept his forbidden appliance a secret, knowing that if word got out that he had access to actual coffee, his cabin would turn into a regular coffeehouse. 

A basket of fruit sat on his countertop next to the coffee pot.  After getting the machine brewing, he chose an apple from the bowl and shined it on his shirt before taking a bite.  He knew he should eat more, but that would involve going to the officer’s mess.  And he didn’t feel like taking questions about Jim’s condition at the moment. 

He stared at the hot coffee that had just begun to cascade into the carafe.  He willed it to go faster.  A few moments and one finished apple later, he had a steaming hot mug of one-hundred-percent pure Kona coffee at his lips. Again, compliments of Jim.

He allowed himself a moment to decompress. 

_Jim’s stable._

_He’s fighting._

_He’s gonna be okay._

_We can start over._

_Relax, Len._

McCoy finished his beverage and left the mug on the counter.  He was ready to go back to work.  And ready to have Kirk back.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Sick Bay was aflutter with activity.  A new day had begun, and all the usual ailments came flooding in at regular intervals.  As McCoy made his way to the SICU, he paused to check on a few patients:  a young Engineering ensign with plasma burns and a yeoman with an allergic reaction to contraband alien foodstuffs.

M’Benga looked surprised to see him back so soon.  “What’re you doing here, Doc?  I thought I told you to get some rest.”

McCoy corrected him.  “No, you told me I stunk.  You never said anything about sleeping.”  He tried to look through the window into the SICU, but M’Benga had tinted it.  “How’s Prince Charming?”

“Behaving, for the most part.  I had to darken the windows; the crew was getting a little too curious.”  He and McCoy walked into Jim’s room.  “His blood pressure’s a little low, but I think it’s just from recovery.  I haven’t lowered the sedatives again; I figured you’d want to.” 

McCoy frowned.  He was concerned that Jim wasn’t able to keep his blood pressure steady.  “Did you increase the vasopressors?”

M’Benga shook his head.  “No.  It wasn’t fluctuating enough to warrant it.  I thought I’d let you decide.”  He entered in a few notes in Jim’s file and logged out of the computer system.  “I’ll leave you to examine the Captain.  It’s been a slow morning, so you can focus on him.”

“Thanks, Geoff.”  McCoy watched as his colleague left, then stood next to Kirk.  He checked the indicators on the IV pumps, making sure they were full and functioning.  He lifted the sheet, taking a quick look at the regenerators on his abdomen and thigh.  He had to stifle a chuckle when his eyes glanced over the urinary catheter attached to Jim.

_Oh man, he’s gonna be pissed…_

He gently brought the covers back over Kirk, and tapped a few commands into the computer.  The pressure on the vent immediately decreased, Jim’s chest rising and falling gently instead of being forced.  One more click, and it would be off.  Now all he had to do was respond to the sedation weaning and prove to McCoy that he could protect his own airway.

He sat on the rolling stool next to the bed.  Making sure the door was closed and the windows still tinted, he leaned in and laid his head on Jim’s pillow, resting his lips against the sleeping Captain’s cheek.  Kirk’s skin felt so warm.  McCoy grasped Jim’s hand, his thumb ghosting over Kirk’s knuckles.  He squeezed Jim’s limp fingers, wishing the young man would reciprocate.  Kirk did, to an extent, his blood pressure leveling out for a moment at McCoy’s touch. 

Jim’s breathing, albeit still artificial, lulled McCoy.  He listened to the machine pump air into Kirk’s lungs, telling himself that within twelve hours, Jim would be breathing on his own.  Possibly even awake and talking.

He could hear Kirk’s voice in his head.  It was melodic and low, with a hint of gravel, especially when Jim was relaxed.  Leonard desperately wanted to hear it again, to listen as Jim told him over and over that he loved him.

“Doctor?”

McCoy’s head shot up, letting go of Jim’s hand with a start.  Spock stood at the door, staring in his direction.  The doctor straightened up in his seat, but did not stand. 

The Vulcan spoke again.  “I see the Captain still requires breathing assistance.  Has his recovery slowed?”

 “We’re almost ready to take him off the vent.  If we’re lucky, he’ll be awake by tonight.”  He stood, activating the vitals screen, Jim’s stats glowing to life.  He watched as Jim’s heartbeat bounced on the display.  “He’s slowly coming back.  Blood pressure’s still not completely stable, but I don’t think it means too much.  Recovery from major trauma can do that to a man.”

“When do you believe he can return to duty?  Starfleet is anxious to speak with him about the Xentians.”  Spock approached the bed.

McCoy scoffed.  “Are you seriously asking me that?  He’s less than forty-eight hours out from almost dying, dammit!  He’s not gonna be talking to Starfleet until I say it’s okay!”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “When do you believe you will deem it to be ‘okay?’?”

McCoy shook his head, his tone rising.  “You Command guys are all alike.  No concern, only business.”  His eyes rested on Kirk.  “He’s the only one in your little boy’s club that gives a shit about compassion.”

“I did not mean to offend you, Doctor.  I was merely requesting a timeframe to report back to Starfleet.  As for my compassion, do not assume that because I choose not to feel emotions, that I do not have any.  Vulcans are taught from birth to suppress emotions and replace them with logic.  I am concerned for the well-being of the Captain, and want him to recover in a timely and efficient manner.”  Spock cocked his head to the side.  “However, I also need to abide by the procedures of Starfleet, and that requires that Captain Kirk be able to speak with Admiral Pike as soon as he is able.” 

McCoy stared at Jim’s vitals, refusing to look at Spock.  “Well, he can talk to Pike when I say he can, and not a minute earlier, got it?”

“Of course, Doctor.”

The doctor eyed Spock.  “So, you gonna tell me what the Admiralty has planned for Xentia?  I’m assuming that’s what they want to talk to Jim about.”

Spock remained expressionless.  “The Federation has decided to deny Xentia entrance for the time being.  They will observe the situation remotely.  However, because the Captain was injured during the mission, they will more than likely decide on some form of action against Ka’al in the future.”

McCoy huffed.  “So they’re just gonna let them all suffer under that bastard?”  Figures.” 

“Doctor, I believe your anger is unwarranted.  The Prime Directive states that Starfleet will not become involved in any strife on the planets of non-members.  However cruel it may seem, the Xentians need to deal with this matter internally—and on their own.  It is the only way they will grow as a people and maintain their own culture.” 

McCoy curled his hands into fists, concealing them within his crossed arms.  “And I suppose they’re going to want to ship Mak’ai back as well, huh?”

“Negative, Doctor.  Admiral Pike has granted her political asylum.  She showed exceptional bravery and compassion in the rescue and care of the Captain, and the Admiral has made it very clear that he is eternally grateful.”

McCoy smiled slightly.  “I always knew Pike had a heart.  That’s why he took a liking to Jim.”

“Has Mak’ai settled in her quarters?”

McCoy replied, “Yeah.  I was going to go see her later.  She seems to be adapting quite well.  I feel bad for her though, she’s probably never going to see her home again.”

“The likelihood of that occurring is less than ten percent.  With the situation on Xentia deteriorating, and Ka’al showing no desire to return the government to the elected officials, she will have little chance of safely returning.”  He thought for a moment.  “Perhaps Lieutenant Uhura could be of some help.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow.  “How so?”

“She may be able to lend a sympathetic ear should Mak’ai need one.  Her compassion knows no bounds and she also has a background in social work, having taken five classes at the Academy on the subject.”

The doctor nodded.  “I’ll mention it to her.  I’m sure she’s anxious to make friends.”

“Very well, Doctor.  I must return to the bridge.  Please keep me abreast of any changes in the Captain’s condition.”

McCoy just grunted in Spock’s direction as the Vulcan left.  He went back to staring at Jim’s vitals.  Everything seemed to be on the up-and-up, even though his blood pressure was still on the low side.  McCoy adjusted the medications coursing into Kirk’s veins, hoping to remedy the situation.  Satisfied that Jim wasn’t going to pull anything, he decided to pay Mak’ai a visit.

McCoy bent down and kissed Jim’s lips, next to the breathing tube.  He couldn’t wait until the damn thing was gone.  He let his face linger close to Kirk’s for a moment, wishing he could feel the heat of Jim’s breath exiting from his body, instead of it leaving via the tube.

He whispered into the younger man’s ear.  “Look, I’m gonna leave for a bit and check on Mak’ai.  When I get back, we can talk about getting that damn tube out of you, alright?”  McCoy waited briefly for a response, even though he knew none was coming.  “Be good for M’Benga, okay?  I won’t be gone long.”

McCoy kissed Jim once more before standing straight.

“I love you, Jim.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Doctor McCoy, how wonderful of you to visit!”  Mak’ai welcomed him into her cabin with open arms.  “I trust Captain Kirk’s condition is satisfactory enough that you felt you could leave Sick Bay.”

McCoy smiled as he entered.  “He’s holding his own.”  He looked around the room.  “You like the rooms?”

Mak’ai beamed.  “They are wonderful.  I always imagined life on a starship to be amazing, but this?”  She extended her arms out. “This is beyond my wildest dreams.  I was even able to program some Xentian foods into the replicator.”  She pointed to a bowl of the same pink fruit that Jim had tried to touch when they first arrived.

“It’s the least we could do.  After all, you saved Jim’s life.”  McCoy sat on the couch, following Mak’ai’s lead. 

She got humble look on her face.  “Everyone keeps saying that.  But you were the one who did all the saving, Leonard.”

“I would never have been able to work if you hadn’t found us in that damn closet and given us a safe place to hide.  Jim would be dead right now—and Spock and I would probably be in Ka’al’s custody—if you hadn’t decided to help.”  He reached out and took her hand in his own.  “I can never thank you enough for everything you did.  You risked your own life for total strangers.”

She smiled.  “You may have been strangers, but I knew you were different.  I can’t tell you how I know, but I feel as if your—Kirk and the crew’s—time is not over with Xentia.  He will bring salvation to my people.”

McCoy frowned. 

_Shit, now I have to tell her that Starfleet isn’t going to help._

McCoy scratched the back of his neck nervously.  “Yeah…about that.  Look, Spock just told me that the Federation has decided to let your people take care of their own problems.  For the time being.”  He exhaled deeply from his nose. “But that doesn’t mean your people have been abandoned by Starfleet.  The admiralty will have their little sessions and decide what to do…eventually.  The fact that Jim was critically injured by the Graz’ Kuul-ai will more than likely speed up their processes.”

Mak’ai sighed, nodding slowly.  “I figured as much, with your Prime Directive and all.  It’s alright, Leonard.  The Xentians are resilient.  Someone will overthrow Ka’al in time.  I just pray that whoever they are is brave and willing to bring Xentia back to its former glory.”  She got a worried look on her face.  Her voice was meek.  “Does this mean I’ll be sent back?”

McCoy shook his head and smiled warmly.  “No way.  Admiral Pike has granted you asylum.  You’ll be at the Academy when the next semester starts.”

She seemed relieved. “Your kindness is overwhelming, Leonard.  Thank you.  I promise I won’t let you down.”  She smiled broadly.  “Who knows, perhaps one day I can work alongside you here aboard the Enterprise?”

“I’d like that, Missy.”  McCoy winced as his arm began to throb.  This did not go unnoticed by Mak’ai.

“You’re in pain, Leonard.”  Her concern was evident.  “How is your arm healing?”

He rubbed it absentmindedly.  “I’m fine.  Just a little stiff, is all.”  He turned his attention to a framed photo on the table next to him.  It was of Mak’ai and another Xentian.  He pointed to the picture.  “That your brother?”

Mak’ai nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Yes.  That was taken weeks before Amari was seduced by Ka’al.”  She sighed.  “I miss him.”

McCoy sat back on the plush sofa, resting his arms on his abdomen.  “Tell me about him.  Keep the good memories alive, y’know?”

Mak’ai rose, and stared out the window at the black expanse of space.  “He was a wonderful young man.  Always singing silly songs he made up or bringing my mother and me flowers or hand-made gifts.  Amari had the most contagious laugh.  It bellowed through a room and within seconds, everyone there was laughing along with him.”  She smiled broadly, hugging her arms around herself.  “He truly was a gift from the Goddesses.”

“You guys were close then, huh?”

“Very much so. He was quite a bit younger than me, and I always took it upon myself to protect him.”  She paused for a long moment before continuing.  “He wasn’t a very intelligent man, but more than made up for his deficiencies with his caring heart.  That’s why I was so heartbroken when he was lured in by Ka’al.  I really don’t think he knew what he was getting himself into until it was too late.”  She turned to face him.  “I wish I could have sheltered him from the Graz’ Kuul-ai.  But, what’s done is done, right?  We can’t change the past, no matter how much we want to.”

McCoy agreed. “No, you certainly can’t change the past.  But, if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that you can’t dwell on the ‘should’ve’s’.”  He sighed.  “Unfortunately, I’ve come to learn that lesson a little late.”

Mak’ai sat once again, next to McCoy.  She placed her hand on his thigh.  “You’re talking about Kirk.”  McCoy nodded.  Mak’ai continued, “How did you two meet?”

“I threw up on him.”

Mak’ai’s eyes bulged in surprise.  “Is that another slang term?”

McCoy chuckled.  “I’m afraid not.  I actually vomited on him.” 

_Damn, you were young, Jim._

_We both were._

_Sure, you annoyed the shit out of me, but you grew on me._

_I think…_

_…I knew there was something special about you the minute I laid eyes on you._

“You threw up on him and he still became your friend?”  Mak’ai was laughing now.

McCoy nodded.  “Yeah, I can’t believe it either.  We were both on a shuttle for new recruits to Starfleet.  We both had our demons and reasons for enlisting—all of which are better left in the past.  Because we were both late arrivals, we ended up being put together as roommates.”  He smiled ever so slightly.  “Jim’s like a little puppy.  He gets attached and then God help ‘ya.  I patched him up whenever he came home broken from bar fights, and he was always there to lend an ear and a drink when I needed to bitch about somethin’.  Which was a lot.  By our second semester, we were inseparable.”

“Did you try to serve together on the Enterprise, or was it coincidence?”

McCoy laughed again.  “He wasn’t even supposed to be on the damn ship when the shit with Vulcan hit the fan.  You learn about that?” Mak’ai nodded.  “He…sort of cheated on a test and was grounded when the fleet moved out.  I felt bad for him and smuggled him on board.  Turned out to be the smartest thing I ever did.”  He sighed and stared out the window into the black. “He saved Earth.  Damn kid’s always the hero.”  He looked back to his hostess.  “Anyway, they gave him the Captaincy at age twenty-five.  Youngest in history. I stayed on as his Chief Medical Officer.”

“It seems like you two were destined to be together.”

McCoy shook his head.  “Yeah, I guess.  Too bad it took him almost dying to make us both see what was right in front of our noses the whole time.”

Mak’ai squeezed her fingers gently into his leg, her claws just barely pricking his skin through his pants.  “You have all the time you could ever want now.  I’m so very happy that you two have realized the importance you both have with one another.”

“Me too.”  He pursed his lips.  “Look, Mak’ai…about our relationship—me and Jim.  It’s not something that we want known just yet.  In fact, you and Spock are the only ones right now who know.”

Mak’ai looked at him genuinely.  “Leonard, I would never betray your confidence, or that of Captain Kirk.  I am honored that you would share such a personal part of your life with me.  I wish you both nothing but happiness and love for the remainder of your lives.”

“Thanks, Mak’ai.  That means a lot.” 

She clasped her hands in her lap.  “I look forward to getting to know him better.  He seems very…genuine.”

A content smile crossed McCoy’s lips.  “Genuine, brave, impulsive, hilarious, caring…and a pain in my ass.”  His communicator beeped.  “Excuse me for a minute.  McCoy here.”

_“Len, come quick!  The Captain…”_ M’Benga’s voice was frantic.

“Geoff, what’s wrong?”  McCoy sprang from the couch and had the door open before M’Benga could answer.  He sprinted down the corridor, Mak’ai hot on his heels.

_“I don’t know what happened!  He was fine one minute and the next thing I knew, his blood pressure dropped dangerously and the biobed read massive bleeding.  Hurry, Doc!”_

“He was just fine thirty minutes ago!”  McCoy reached the turbolift and waited impatiently for it to come to a halt.  He dashed inside, feverishly mashing his fingers against the keypad.  “I’m on my way!  Don’t let him code, you hear me?” 

There was commotion on M’Benga’s end, nurses shouting and monitors wailing in the background.  _“Nurse Bonham, run that IV wide open!  Flood him with vasopressors!  Len, for God’s sakes, hurry!”_

McCoy felt his cheeks flush and his stomach jumped into his throat.  Jim was in crisis and he wasn’t there.

_I abandoned him._

_I should have never left._

_Dammit, Jim!_

_Don’t do this!_

The turbolift hummed to a halt and McCoy all but tore the door open trying to exit.  He ran down the hall towards Sick Bay, crew members darting out of the way as he flew past them.  He rounded the corner and the door to Medical hissed open. 

He barreled into the SICU just in time to see Kirk’s heartbeat flatline.


	13. Caught in the Crossfire: Chapter Thirteen

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Thirteen

                McCoy’s heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. 

He ran into the surgical intensive care room, Jim’s heartbeat no longer dancing rhythmically on the screen.  It had been replaced by a still blue line. 

_No!_

_Jim, don’t do this!_

McCoy fought his own eyes, willing the tears that were beginning to form not to fall.  He flew to Kirk’s bedside, shoving a nurse out of the way.  “Get me a cardiostimulator! Now!”

_You are not dying today, damn you!_

_Not after I’ve worked so hard to bring you back from the brink!_

_Not after…_

_…everything that’s been said between us._

 “The biobed indicated massive bleeding in his abdomen without any warning.  Before I could run a proper scan, he started crashing!”  M’Benga handed McCoy the cardiostimulator.  “I’m…sorry Len.”

McCoy’s hands shook as he charged the device.  He stared down at Jim’s body, the vent still pumping air into him.  The nurses had removed the blanket from Kirk, leaving him exposed on the biobed so the doctors could work unimpeded.  M’Benga worked swiftly to remove both dermal regenerators from the Captain’s body.  If they were to stay on, the metal within them would conduct the electric shock from the stimulator.

“Hurry, Geoff!”  McCoy twisted his fingers around the device in his hand as he waited for M’Benga to finish.  “He’s runnin’ out of time!”

His colleague’s hands removed the last of the regenerators and McCoy wasted no time as he laid the cardiostimulator on Kirk’s chest.  One press of a red glowing button and Jim’s body jerked unnaturally off the biobed.  McCoy stared intently at the vitals screen, praying that the flat heart rate would start to bounce again.

The monitor stared back at him, no signs of life.

_Dammit, kid!_

_Why can’t you just survive like a normal man?_

_Why are you doing this to me?_

McCoy removed the stimulator from the Captain’s chest and recalibrated it.  He needed it to provide a stronger jolt if he had any chance of re-starting Kirk’s heart.  He listened to the high-pitched whine the device made as it gathered its charge, willing it to go faster.  Every second that ticked by was time that Jim didn’t have. 

In all his years dealing with Jim Kirk, he had seen numerous injuries, some critical, some not.  Broken ribs, split lips, concussions—and that was just at the Academy.  Kirk had seen his fair share of life-threatening events as well: both Spock and Nero had strangled him within an inch of his life, he had been stabbed in a bar fight months before on shore leave, and the last incident—where McCoy had held Jim’s liver in his hands—was courtesy of a nasty civil war that they had beamed into unknowingly.

But not once—through all those chaotic times—had Jim’s heart stopped beating.

The damn fool had always managed to keep a steady heart rhythm, no matter what kind of situation he was in.  It was constant and unwavering; a glimmer of hope for McCoy when he felt as though Jim was testing his resolve.

And now it was still.

The cardiostimulator chirped, signaling the charge was set.  McCoy replaced it on Kirk’s chest.

_Come back, Jim._

_Please._

_The ship needs you._

_I need you…_

McCoy depressed the button and stepped back as the charge ripped through Jim’s body.  His right hand slipped off the biobed, brushing against McCoy’s pants as it dropped, and hung limply to the side.  McCoy’s eyes darted to the screen, intently watching the blue line for any hope of success.

The seconds seemed to drag on.

And then it appeared.

A small bump on the line, followed by another, unevenly spaced—but there.

Jim was trying to come back.

“M’Benga, run the Dopamine drip at full tilt.  Let’s get that heart rhythm stronger.”

_That’s good, Jim._

_Fight like there’s no tomorrow._

_Fight for me._

_For us._

The beats on the monitor began to become more consistent.  McCoy looked down to Jim’s neck, placing two fingers over his jugular vein to reassure himself that the kid’s heart was really beating.  He removed the cardiostimulator and tossed it aside.  “Let’s get a full body scan going. I need to see where this bleeding’s coming from.”

_I feel like I’m going to pass out._

_Keep it together, Len._

_No one else can save him._

The panel on the ceiling began to glow as it scanned Jim from head to toe.  McCoy scowled as the results began to appear on the screen.  Jim’s spleen was hemorrhaging again. 

_That’s it.  The damn thing’s comin’ out._

“It’s his spleen.  I’m going to have to remove it; it’s doing more harm than good.”  He gently lifted Jim’s dangling arm back onto the biobed and gathered the tubing and wires surrounding him.  Disengaging the locks on the bed, it began to hover, allowing the medical team to lead it into the Surgical Bay once more.  “Alert Spock that we’re taking him back into surgery.  He’d want to be informed.”

_Didn’t want to open you up again, Jim._

_I’m sorry._

_Just hang on._

McCoy barely noticed Mak’ai silently leave Sick Bay, concerned tears streaming down her face as the nurses prepped Kirk for surgery.  He was functioning on autopilot, running his hands under the sterilizer and accepting his surgical gown.  He didn’t even bother to put on scrubs—there was no time.  Minutes later, Jim was heavily sedated again and ready for emergency surgery.

_Take a deep breath, Leonard._

_Calm down._

_You can’t save him if you’re shakin’ like a leaf._

McCoy wrapped a mask around his face and held out his hand, accepting the laser scalpel M’Benga placed in his palm.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy stared at Kirk’s mouth.

No longer was there a tube forcing his lips apart, a ventilator pumping artificial air into his lungs.  Jim was breathing on his own.  McCoy had been able to remove him from respiratory support soon after the operation had ended.  Jim had triggered the sensor on the vent, the biobed alerting the doctor that he was keeping his airway open.  He considered it a small victory.

Jim’s lips were parted slightly, although most of the oxygen entering his body was via a nasal cannula wrapped around his cheeks and draped over his ears.  His eyes twitched under their lids, signaling that there was significant brain activity.  Another win in McCoy’s book.

The surgery had ended ninety minutes ago.  It hadn’t taken McCoy long to remove Jim’s destroyed spleen, and the kid had surprised him with minimal bleeding from the affected vessels as he methodically repaired each one.  The doctor still had to contend with the massive bleeding Kirk had suffered before the damaged organ came out, but with a steady stream of blood products coursing into Jim’s veins, the problem would be taken care of within a few hours as Kirk’s body worked to replenish its supply of the crimson liquid.

His heartbeat was strong and steady.  McCoy watched the monitors, Jim’s life literally flashing right before his eyes.  But, where so many times in the last days Kirk had been close to death, this time Leonard felt confident that Jim wasn’t going to pull anything else.

Like flatlining.  Again.

All his test results looked normal; blood count and chemistry were climbing back into their respective normal ranges.  His organs were cooperating with his body, his wounds being taken care of by regenerators and his sedation levels were almost non-existent.  McCoy hadn’t topped Jim off after the surgery had ended, instead electing to allow the remaining sedatives to wear off slowly.  Even though Kirk had only been technically dead for less than two minutes, he still ran the risk of damaging his brain.  Being on the vent at the time had given Jim a slight advantage, the oxygen the machine provided keeping his brain working.  But the only way McCoy could be sure that there wasn’t any permanent damage was for Jim to wake up.

He knew Kirk would be in a considerable amount of pain when that happened, but as soon as McCoy assessed his brain functions, he would dope him up and let him float into la-la land, allowing him to recover at a normal rate in as little pain as possible. 

McCoy sat vigil at the bedside, M’Benga relieving him of his duties soon after the surgery had ended.  He stretched his back and shoulders, leaning backwards against the chair.  He craned his neck to the side, briefly peering out of the glass door and into Sick Bay.  Staff hovered around the numerous biobeds, a passing crewman with nodded briefly with a concerned smile as he walked past the door, his eyes lingering on the Captain.  McCoy knew the crew was worried.  But he was glad they were keeping their respective distance as he recovered. 

Rustling blankets next to him snapped his attention back to the bed.  Jim’s fingers twitched, his head rolling to the side.  McCoy sat forward and grabbed the younger man’s hand in his own, squeezing gently. 

“Computer, tint the door and windows.” 

If Jim were waking up, McCoy wanted him to do it away from the prying eyes of the crew.  He knew it wasn’t going to be comfortable for Kirk once he woke up, and wanted him to have some privacy.  Plus, he wanted Jim all to himself.

So he could kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

Kirk groaned softly, gripping McCoy’s fingers feebly.

_That’s it, Jim._

_C’mon back._

“Jim?  It’s time to open your eyes.”  McCoy watched Kirk’s eyes like a hawk.  They fluttered a few times before closing again, Jim’s long eyelashes touching the skin underneath.  The monitors on the biobed started to fluctuate.  Jim’s heart rate was rising along with his blood pressure.  McCoy knew this meant that he was in pain.  He leaned in close, resting his head next to Kirk’s, close enough for his lips to brush lightly against Jim’s ear.  “C’mon, darlin’.  I know it hurts, but if you open your eyes and talk to me for a minute, I’ll give you the good drugs.  I promise.”

Turning his head towards the sound of McCoy’s voice, Jim exhaled a shaky breath and cracked his eyes open.  He immediately clamped them shut, as the overhead lights in the SICU were at one-hundred percent.

“Computer, dim lights to fifty percent.”

As soon as the light in the room diminished, Kirk tried once again to open his eyes.  McCoy kissed Jim’s cheek, then leaned back so the Captain could see him better.  He ran his fingers through Kirk’s hair, his thumb rubbing the younger man’s forehead.

“Bones?”  Jim’s voice was quiet and weak, hoarse from the endotracheal tube that had resided there for over twenty-four hours.

_Thank Christ he’s talking.  And that he recognizes me._

McCoy smiled warmly and sighed in relief.  “Right here, darlin’.”

Kirk’s eyes scanned Leonard’s face slowly, lids blinking lethargically.  “ ‘s it really you?”

“In the flesh, kid.  And if you ever pull shit like you did these last couple of days again, I’ll throttle ya.  Got it?”

Jim managed a weak smile as his body began to shake.  “I’m cold, Bones.”  His face began to contort, and McCoy knew that the sedative had completely worn off.  Tears began to well up in Kirk’s eyes.

McCoy pulled another blanket over Jim.  “The shivering is just a side effect of the anesthesia.”  He pressed his index and ring finger against Jim’s wrist.  Just as the vitals screen had indicated, Kirk’s pulse was erratic.  “Jim, I need you to listen to me, okay?  On a scale of zero to ten, zero being no pain and ten being the worst you’ve ev-“

“Nine.”  Jim’s voice was urgent.  “I think…I’m gonna puke…”  Before McCoy could react, Jim turned his head and vomited off the side of the biobed.

_At least he missed my shoes._

McCoy grabbed a towel and held it under Jim’s chin, just in case the Captain wasn’t done.  He waited a few moments, curling his fingers into Jim’s hair soothingly, until the younger man rolled his head back onto the pillow.  Leonard quickly bent down and used the towel to clean up the mess on the floor, then threw it into the trash can.  McCoy dipped a cloth in a glass of water that had been placed on the bedside table and used it to dab Jim’s lips and chin clean.  “Feel better?”

Jim closed his eyes.  “Not really.  Everything hurts.”  His breaths were shaky and shallow.  McCoy increased the oxygen saturation entering Jim’s lungs.  Kirk’s breathing began to steady.

“Just take deep, even breaths, Jim.  I’m gonna get you something for the pain in just a minute.  I need to examine you quickly.”  McCoy removed his hand from Kirk’s hair, pulling the blankets back gently.  Jim’s torso and thigh were a mass of bruises and bandages.  He lifted each dressing, scrutinizing the wounds and their accompanying regenerators.  Satisfied that two of the three injuries were healing as well as they could be, he moved to the shoulder. 

“I’m gonna roll you on your side for a second, Jim.  Gotta check your back.”  Jim moaned as his body moved, McCoy gently manipulating the Captain onto his side.  He scowled when he saw blood seeping through the fabric of the bandage.  Keeping one hand on Jim’s flank to steady him, McCoy deftly removed the stained dressing, exposing the precise line of sutures crossing his shoulder blade.

_Goddamn, that must hurt like a bastard._

“Hang on, Jim.  I need to cleanse this incision and re-dress it.”  Kirk whimpered as McCoy dabbed antiseptic on the weeping stitches, his back muscles tensing under his fingers.  Leonard worked swiftly, methodically replacing the bandage and taping it into place.  “Almost done, darlin’.”  Jim answered with a pitiful, breathy groan.

When he was finished, McCoy signed the white fabric, rolled Jim over and adjusted the pillows underneath his head and back.  Kirk’s face was twisted in agony.  Tears began to escape from the corners of his eyes, rolling back along his cheeks and disappearing into his hair.  “Bones…”

The doctor looked at the biobed’s screen.  Kirk’s pain indicators were off the charts.  He rested the palm of his hand on top of Jim’s head. 

_I can’t take this._

_He’s hurting so bad._

McCoy’s heart broke. He was only going to give Jim enough pain meds to help with post-surgery discomfort, but it was evident that Kirk was in considerably more pain than he had originally suspected.  He decided to completely tranquilize him again.  His only mistake was telling Jim his plans.

“I’m gonna sedate you again, Jim.  You need more pain relief than regular meds can give you right now.”  He began to reach his hand towards the IV pump, ready to introduce a powerful sedative into Kirk’s veins.  Jim weakly grabbed his wrist before he could.  He looked down into sorrowful and pleading eyes.

“Pl-please don’t drug me…”  Jim let go of McCoy’s arm and gingerly reached for the doctor’s face, arm shaking.  McCoy leaned down to allow Kirk access to his cheek.  He placed his own hand over Jim’s warm one and squeezed the limp fingers.  “So tired of…slipping away from you, Bones…”

_Don’t do this, Jim._

_Don’t beg me not to help you._

_I know what’s best for you right now._

“You need the pain meds, Jim.  You need to rest.”  He watched as Kirk’s eyes glistened with moisture, tears now flowing freely.  He wiped his thumb over the trail of wetness on Jim’s cheek.

“But…if you do, I…”  Kirk screwed his eyes shut, his breathing becoming more erratic.  “…I’m afraid I won’t be able to see you…anymore.”

_Me too, kid.  The irrational side of me doesn’t want those baby blues to close either._

_Because I’m afraid I’ll never see that sparkle again._

_But my “doctor” side knows better._

_You’re over the biggest hurdle.  Now all you have to do is get stronger._

McCoy’s chin dropped to his chest.  He hated seeing Jim in so much agony.  He took a cleansing breath and allowed his eyes to meet Kirk’s once again.  “Kid…you can see me as much as you want when you wake up.  And for the rest of our lives.” 

“Please, Bones…I want to stay with you…”

McCoy knew that the pain was overtaking Jim’s ability to think clearly.  The once strong and cocksure Captain was reduced to begging and tears.  It nearly broke the doctor.  He could feel his own emotions beginning to bubble up from somewhere deep inside, threatening to burst free and overtake him.  McCoy’s heart began to race, his chest tightening.

“Listen to me, Jim.  Don’t fight me on this.”  His voice was beginning to crack as he let go of Kirk’s hand and it fell limply to the younger man’s side.  McCoy entered in a code on the IV pump and the sedative began flowing into Kirk’s veins.  “Let me help you.”

Jim’s eyes began to lose their focus on McCoy’s face and listed off to the side.  His mouth fell slack as the drugs consumed him.  “I…why’d y-“

McCoy held his hand tightly, reassuringly.  “Let the medicine take you, darlin’.  I promise everything will be alright.” 

_Please don’t fight this, Jim._

_It’s breaking me._

Kirk wasn’t backing down.  “Don’…wanna…not ready…t’go…”

McCoy leaned over kissed Jim tenderly.  “Rest…you’re gonna be okay.  I’ve gotcha.”  Kirk’s body shuddered as he mustered one last whimper before he succumbed to the medication.  McCoy felt Jim’s fingers relax against his own.  His shoulders sagged, and his voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

_Christ, I feel like I’ve betrayed his trust._

_He all but begged me not to dope him up and I did it anyway._

_You bastard._

_Please don’t hate me, kid._

McCoy stared up at the vitals screen, taking note that both Kirk’s heart rate and blood pressure had stabilized and the pain indicators had all but disappeared with the introduction of the meds.  He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of Jim breathing steadily.  He tried to get the echo of Kirk’s desperate pleas out of his head.  It had been agonizing listening to the Captain beg him not to sedate, the two parts of his brain fighting a terrible battle.  On one side was his medical expertise, knowing what was best for Jim even when the young Captain didn’t. 

But the other part of his brain—the one that loved Kirk so deeply and wanted to respect his wishes—had screamed at him to drop his hand before it sent the drugs.  That little voice reverberated in his head, telling him to keep Jim lucid and with him, even if he was in pain.  Just to hear his voice, to see the crystal blue of his eyes.

McCoy knew he would never listen to that other part; his medical thinking would never have let that happen.  After all, he had taken an oath to never bring harm to patients, and that meant he wouldn’t deny Jim of analgesics—even when Kirk begged him not to.

_Won’t harm anyone, eh, Len?_

_You let Jim writhe in agony on the floor of that goddamn storage closet._

_What about when you rooted around in his belly looking for the bullet and he screamed his lungs out before losing consciousness?_

_When he foamed at the mouth in the throes of a seizure?_

_Or almost bled out in your arms?_

“Jesus, Jim.”  McCoy’s voice was hoarse and hushed, talking to the still form beside him.  “I tortured you.  And…you still love me.”  A tear slipped from his eye and splashed onto his pants.  “You shouldn’t.”

McCoy could feel his mind tracking to a place he didn’t want it to go.  It happened quite often with Jim in the equation, and had since the days at the Academy.  Every time Jim wouldn’t answer his communicator or leave him waiting in the wee hours of the morning, Leonard would immediately begin running worst-case scenarios in his head.  It was an awful habit he had begun as a child, after listening to his father talk about patients from the day’s work.  All the horrible things that would happen to those people would fill his brain with “what-if’s” and torment his thoughts—usually as he was trying to fall asleep.  The faces of his parents and family would inevitably work their way into the set-ups and would keep him up at night.

Kirk had a knack for making McCoy worry quite often, dragging his ass back to their dorm drunk and or beaten on a weekly basis.  Leonard would stare at his chronometer and wait on him, and wonder where the hell the kid was, his mind would always wander to that dark place.  The place that had Jim face-down in an alley, bleeding.  Or smashed up in someone’s car.  Fighting for his life in some strange hospital—alone. 

But Jim would always make it back, sometimes a little worse for wear, and McCoy would sigh in relief, fix the fool up and get him to sleep.  Even back then, he knew he had feelings for Kirk, but would never have told the kid that.  Instead, he kept it to himself, watching Jim go out almost every night, knowing he could end up in someone’s bed that wasn’t Leonard’s. 

When they got aboard the Enterprise, the irrational scenarios exploded exponentially.  Because they were actually probable.  McCoy had felt the feeling of dread when Spock had sent Jim to Delta Vega in that damn escape pod, with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the bandage on his hand.  He feared he would never see him again, that he would freeze to death on that goddamn rock.  And when Jim found himself on the Narada, Leonard ran awful situations in his head, waiting for Kirk’s return.  Blood, bruises, horrible wounds—death.  Everything and anything he could think of.

He knew it was a terrible thing to do, and dwelling on bad situations wasn’t going to help anyone.  But he couldn’t stop himself.  Since childhood, it had been a part of him, like some superstition or ritual that helped him through hard times, no matter how insane it seemed.

Because nothing ever came of the daydreams.

Everyone always came home.  The horrible situations Leonard came up with in his mind never panned out.  But that didn’t stop him from doing it.

And now, sitting in the quiet room, Jim drugged out of his mind next to him—the “what if’s” came back. 

_What if I missed some other piece of shrapnel?_

_What if he bleeds again?_

_What if…_

_…I can’t live without him._

McCoy felt his chest tighten, and the walls suddenly got closer.  His mouth dried out in an instant, his tongue sticking to his teeth.  He couldn’t stop the thoughts.  The more he tried to quell the horrendous images, the worse they became.

Jim bleeding out in front of his eyes, the crimson liquid cascading off the edge of the biobed.

His heart stopping again, the cardiostimulator’s highest charge doing nothing as Kirk lay motionless.

Having to close the kid’s eyes as they stared up at him in death.

McCoy felt sick.  He reached for the trash can and put his face in just as his breakfast came up.  The walls started to close in on him, and he felt as if the air was on fire as it entered his lungs.  He couldn’t catch his breath.  The doctor’s heart was beating out of control, so much so that his chest actually hurt with each thump of the organ.  He looked down at his hands tightly gripping the wastebasket.  They were shaking, his fingers wrapped so forcefully around the lip of the can that his knuckles were white.

He needed to get out of Sick Bay.

He looked to Jim, knowing he would be out for hours.  He stood and tossed the whole trash can in the garbage chute before leaning in and kissing Kirk with trembling lips.

_I gotta get outta here for a while, Jim._

_It’s not you or anything that you did._

_You’re not at fault._

_I just…_

_…can’t handle this right now._

“I love you, Jim.  I’ll be back.”

It took everything in his power not to throw up on Kirk.  He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gingerly made his way to the door.  He slid it open, eyes scanning the medical bay for M’Benga.  He found him standing at a computer terminal.  He quickly made a beeline for his colleague, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into an unoccupied examination pod.

“Geoff…I’ve gotta go for a while.  I…don’t feel so well.”

M’Benga’s eyes were laden with concern.  “You need me to check you out, Len?  I can run a quick scan.”

McCoy shook his head.  He really needed to get out.  “No.  Just keep an eye on Kirk for me.”

M’Benga nodded.  “Alright…you sure you don-“

McCoy didn’t let him finish.  He walked away and hurried out of Sick Bay.  Dodging crewmembers in the hallways, darted around a corner towards the turbolift only to run smack into Spock.  The First Officer had to steady himself as the doctor barreled into him.

“Doctor McCoy, you seem to be in a hurry.  Is there something I can assist you with?”

McCoy wrung his hands together.  “No.  Just…let me by, alright?”

Spock cocked his head.  “You seem stressed, Doctor.”  McCoy didn’t answer.  “I was coming to check on the Captain’s status.”

McCoy could barely make eye contact with him.  His eyes stung with moisture that he did not want the Vulcan to see.  “I can’t talk to you right now, Spock.  I need to…”  His throat closed up, unable to continue.

Spock pursed his lips.  “What exactly happened, Doctor?  The nurse only said that Captain Kirk needed emergency surgery.”

McCoy’s breaths were hitched.  He could feel the bile rising in his throat.  He certainly did not want to vomit on Spock.  He tried to move away from him, taking a few steps to the side in order to get away.  He spoke urgently as he moved.  “He…flatlined, alright, Spock?”  His voice was shaking, his words stuttering out of his mouth.  “His spleen all but burst.  I had to take it out.”  He licked his lips and looked away.

“Will he recover?”

McCoy tried to take a deep breath.  “He’s heavily sedated and resting.”  The image of Jim begging him not to knock him out floated into his brain.  He could see his blue eyes, wet with tears as he pleaded with him not to use the medications.  Kirk had been so weak and feeble as he tried to keep his hand on Leonard’s cheek.  The images haunted him, along with the sound of Jim’s voice.

“May I see him?”

The doctor inched farther away from Spock, trying to head towards the turbolift.  “Yeah, sure.  I…gotta go…”

“Are you feeling ill, Doctor?  Do you require me to call for Doctor M’Benga?”

McCoy shook his head.  “No, dammit!”  He huffed and scrubbed his hand over his face.  “Just…tired.  Let me by, will ya?”  He began to move past Spock.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.  “Very well, Doctor.  Please rest.”

McCoy just grunted as he walked past the man and into the waiting turbolift.  As the doors closed, he allowed his eyes to do the same.  He willed his stomach to keep its contents as he felt the vibration of the elevator reverberate through his body.  He steadied himself against the wall, pressing his hot cheek against the cool metal.

_Almost back, Len._

The doors whooshed open and he ran towards his quarters faster than he ever thought his legs could carry him.  He pressed his fingers against the keypad at his door, his keycode going into the computer with the familiar melody.  The door slid open and he tumbled inside, falling to his knees once he was safely behind closed doors.

His body shook as his emotions finally came to a head.  He heard himself begin to weep, a sound foreign to his ears.  His lungs burned as his choked sobs echoed through the empty suite.  All the pent up frustration, guilt and worry from the past few days boiled over and spewed from his mouth as hoarse moans as he held his head in his hands. 

_I should have never allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief._

_I was stupid._

_I should have known better._

_I caused him so much pain._

_Dammit, Jim._

_You just had to get yourself into this mess._

_…and expect me to fix it._

_Because I always do…_

He hadn’t even cried like this when his father died.  He lay there, curled into the fetal position for several minutes, weeping away all the stress.  When the sobs dried up, he brought himself to his knees again.   He wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a trail of mucous across the cloth.  Everything he and Jim had been through, everything that had been said between them—it overtook him.  Jim’s fear.  His own doubts and anger. The terror he felt as he listened to the cardiostimulator charging.  The thought that he came way too close to having to live without Kirk. 

 Once again, his stomach began to turn.

He crawled through his bedroom towards the bathroom, the cool tiles chilling the palms of his hands as he crossed from carpet to ceramic.  He slumped against the wall of the tiny dark space.  His heartbeat was pounding in his ears.  McCoy held a finger to his wrist, feeling the thrum of his pulse beneath his fingertips.  It was racing. 

_Calm down._

_Pull your shit together._

He sat in the silence for a long moment as his heart began to return to a natural cadence.  Confident that he wouldn’t faint, McCoy slowly pulled himself up to the counter with heavy and unwilling arms.  He steadied himself with a shaky breath, the last of his tears splattering into the basin of the metallic sink.  He switched on the dim overhead light and looked at himself in the mirror. 

Red, puffy eyes.  Snot crusted around his nostrils.  Hair tousled and out of place.

He splashed a bit of cold water on his face.  The icy water stung his burning cheeks.  It shocked him upright, and he stood there for a moment as the water dripped from his face. 

He needed a drink.

McCoy stumbled into the kitchenette, knowing exactly what cupboard to look in.  Throwing the cabinet door open, he found his desired prize.  A bottle of aged Kentucky bourbon that Jim had given him as a Christmas gift in the Academy.  He had never opened it before, telling himself to save it for a time of need.

_Christ, if this isn’t a time of need…I don’t know what is._

McCoy held the bottle in his hands, turning it over and over, watching the liquid inside splash about at the neck.  He started to pick at the wax seal of the cap before stopping himself.

_What the hell are you doing?_

_What if Jim has another crisis?_

_You can’t help him if you’re slobbering drunk._

The doctor sighed heavily and reluctantly replaced the bottle on its shelf.  He steadied himself on the counter with his arms, letting his head droop between his shoulders.  His neck muscles burned with unwanted tightness.  Fatigue was setting in again.  McCoy turned his head slightly, his bed taunting him in the bedroom out of the corner of his eye.

_Maybe I’ll just lie down for an hour._

_Let myself calm down._

_Then I’ll go back to Jim._

He trudged into his bedroom and collapsed on his bed.  Still clad in bloodstained clothes, he sighed heavily as his eyes began to close.

He was asleep in seconds.


	14. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Fourteen

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Fourteen

                “I am ready to speak about the events of the past days, Nyota.”

Uhura put her book down and faced Spock.  They had been sitting quietly in his cabin, both reading in each other’s embrace.  She looked up at him with her huge brown eyes.  “I’m glad to hear that.”

He turned to face her on the couch, his posture stiff and unwelcoming.  “I have been thinking about what happened on Xentia.”  He hesitated briefly, Nyota smiling compassionately and taking his hand in hers.  He tensed his fingers at the contact, but she refused to let go.  “When the Captain was first injured, my main priority was getting him safely off the planet.  It was not until Doctor McCoy began to treat him in the safety of Mak’ai’s home that my emotions began to surface.”

Spock finally leaned back into the plush couch, releasing her hand.   Nyota followed suit along with him.  She scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder.  She hoped he would relax at her closeness, but he remained rigid.  “Let it out, Spock.  We’ve been working so hard these last few months to get in touch with your human side.”  She snuggled into his body.  “It’ll be good for you.”

“I was…worried.  When I watched Doctor McCoy remove the projectiles from the Captain’s abdominal cavity without anesthesia…”

She sat up, covering her mouth with her hand.  “Without meds?”  She swallowed hard.  “That must have been awful.”

“It was unpleasant.  The Captain’s screams were very difficult to listen to.”  His shoulders began to slump ever so slightly as he allowed himself to express his feelings.

Tears fell from Uhura’s eyes.  “He screamed.  I’m so sorry, Spock.”

“Do not feel sorry for me, Nyota.  If you wish to express sympathy for anyone, it should be Captain Kirk or Doctor McCoy.” 

She felt her stomach tighten into knots.  She couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like for Kirk.  “Was he conscious the whole time?”

“Negative.  He passed out as the Doctor removed the first bullet.”  His eyes seemed distant as he retold the events.  “He remained unconscious for the duration of the procedures.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.  “I guess that makes me feel a little better.  I’m sorry I interrupted you, Spock.  Please, go on.”

“As I was saying, my emotions began to waver as the Captain cried out.  I felt…”  He hesitated, choosing his words carefully.  “…helpless.”

Uhura looked down at her hands.  She had never heard Spock use such a phrase to describe himself before.  She watched his mannerisms closely as he tried to express feelings that had to have been so very foreign to him.  Although he still sat well back into the couch, his hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his legs uncrossed and very stiff.  He stared straight ahead as he talked.

He continued, his expression pensive.  “Watching the Doctor work, knowing that the only action I could assist with was holding Captain Kirk down…was upsetting.”

Uhura decided to dig deeper.  “Upsetting how?  What about the whole situation bothered you?”

Spock briefly turned to look at her, his left eyebrow raised questioningly before returning his gaze into the middle of the room.  He sat quietly for a moment before answering.  “I was uncomfortable knowing that Captain Kirk was in considerable pain and that I was allowing it to go on, even though, logically there was no other course of action Doctor McCoy could have taken.  The Captain would have died without intervention.”  He inhaled deeply.  “I felt his body shaking beneath my hands as he tried to arch off the bed, and even though he was in an extremely weakened state, his ability to attempt to escape from my grip was substantial.  I felt…guilty.”

“Guilty because Kirk was in pain?”

“Not entirely.  I felt guilty because I was doing nothing to stop it.”

Uhura was proud of Spock.  It had taken months of work to get him to a point where he was willing to share even the most basic of emotions with her.  And now, to have him bare himself like this—she felt honored.

“But you felt relieved when it was all over, right?”

Spock nodded.  “Yes.  For the moment.”

Uhura cocked her head in surprise.  “What do you mean?”

“After a short amount of time, a group of Ka’al’s men came looking for us.  Mak’ai was able to lead them astray by hiding us.  The Captain had a seizure as they were leaving.”  Spock went on, his voice softening.  “I was afraid for Captain Kirk.  It was the first time since the passing of my mother that I was confronted with the possibility of someone close to me dying.”

Uhura knew that the situation had been bad on the planet, and that Kirk had been in dire straits, but to hear everything from Spock’s mouth, information that the rest of the crew was not privy to—it took her breath away.

“But he didn’t die, Spock.  He’s alive.  You must feel comforted by that fact.”  She offered a warm smile.

 “I do, Nyota.  Although my encounter with Doctor McCoy this afternoon made those feelings of dread crop up once again.”

She remembered Spock’s reaction when the call had come in from Sick Bay that Kirk was being taken back to surgery.  He had sat stoically in the Captain’s chair as she relayed the message.  He simply nodded and thanked her for the update.  Anyone else on the bridge would have seen nothing in his face, his expression.  But Nyota knew better.  She could tell that the news had shaken him.  She hadn’t known that Spock had seen McCoy after the fact.

“What did he say to you?”

Spock’s face contorted in thought.  “He gave me troubling news.  His body language indicated that he was uncomfortable speaking with me.  I could tell that his emotions were, as you would say, ‘haywire.’”

Uhura sat forward and turned to face Spock, crossing her legs underneath her body.  “What did he do?”

“He was extremely distant and unwilling to hold more than a brief conversation.  While this behavior is typical of Doctor McCoy on a daily basis, his mannerisms seemed to indicate that he was under extreme duress.  When I inquired about the Captain’s condition, he began to shake and was reluctant to make eye contact.”

Uhura sighed. “He was scared.”

“Precisely.  He informed me that Captain Kirk had lost his heartbeat and had to undergo an emergency splenectomy to save his life.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Spock pursed his lips, his posture stiffening.  “Extremely concerned.  I did not anticipate the severity of the Captain’s condition.  I wrongly assumed that the surgery was not as emergent as it turned out to be.  Furthermore, upon learning that the Captain had been clinically dead for several moments, it became very apparent that he had been in dire straits.  I was worried.”

“Worried for whom?” 

“The Captain, because his life had been in grave danger numerous times since being injured, and to a lesser degree, Doctor McCoy.”  He sat forward, his back straight as an arrow. “It was obvious that he was feeling ill, and when I offered to contact Doctor M’Benga for him, he declined and walked away from me.”

Uhura clasped her hands in her lap.  “Sounds to me like he couldn’t take the stress anymore.  They’re pretty close friends, Spock.  It must have been horrible for him to have to work on the Captain like that.  I mean, I know he’s done it probably more times that he’d care to talk about, but still…”

“My thoughts exactly, Nyota.  I found myself feeling sadness for Doctor McCoy.  To see someone you care about deeply, as the doctor does for the Captain, going through such turmoil must have been heart wrenching.  I assume that the added pressure of being the one to care for Captain Kirk on such a traumatic level weighed heavily upon him.”

She moved in close next to him and pushed him back against the couch so she could curl into his body.  She smiled when he didn’t protest. “You’re really beginning to understand emotions better, Spock. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Nyota.  I admit that learning to harness my emotions has not been without difficulty, but I trust that with your assistance, I can continue to make progress.”

Uhura chuckled and lifted herself up to kiss Spock on the cheek.  “You’re welcome.  And you’re a good friend to both of them.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_…The room was dark, and McCoy could feel Jim’s body heat radiating onto him.  He tightened his arms around the man next to him, nuzzling his chin into Kirk’s hair.  He listened to the sound of Jim’s breathing, steady and strong, as he slept.  McCoy didn’t want this moment to end._

_Jim stirred, murmuring in his sleep.  McCoy smiled in the darkness as Jim curled into his chest, his blond hair tickling his bare skin.  He could feel Kirk’s heartbeat thumping under his palm, splayed across the younger man’s back._

_The hum of the Enterprise’s engines reverberated through the walls of the cabin, creating a calming effect on the sleepy doctor.  He turned his eyes up and to the side, looking out of the large window along the wall.  Millions of stars dotted the blackness of space.  He felt his eyelids grow heavy as he stared out at the void._

_With his soul mate curled up next to him, he felt as content as he’d ever felt in his entire life.  He had a great career on the Federation’s flagship, captained by the love of his life.  Hell, he even enjoyed being around Spock from time to time._

_Jim sighed heavily in his sleep, rolling over onto his back.  McCoy rolled on his side and propped himself up on an elbow.  He watched Kirk sleep, his eyes flitting back and forth under his lids with his dreams.  McCoy leaned over and kissed his parted lips lightly, Kirk’s mouth curling up in a small unconscious smile.  The doctor lingered for just a moment at Jim’s side before laying down once again, pulling the thin blanket up over them both as he did so._

_He exhaled deeply as he allowed sleep to consume him._

_McCoy was awakened abruptly when the whole room began to shake.  His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright in bed.  He turned to wake Jim, only to find him missing.  A giant bloodstain marked the sheets where he once lay._

_Leonard began to panic._

_“Jim?  Where are you?”_

_He threw the blankets from his body, and tumbled out of bed.  When he got to his feet, he was no longer in the bedroom, but on the bridge, clothed in his medical uniform.  He quickly scanned for the Captain, unable to locate him._

_The attention of the entire bridge crew was focused on a large reptilian being standing in front of the view screen.  The alien had its back to them, and looked as if it was clutching something in front of its body.  McCoy could just make out black Federation-issue boots dangling between the reptile’s legs.  The creature began to laugh and slowly turn around._

_It was Ka’al._

_And he had Jim by the throat._

_Kirk struggled to breathe as he frantically tried to wrench the warrior’s fingers away from his neck, his face turning beet-red, eyes beginning to roll back from lack of oxygen.  The long, thin claws on Ka’al’s fingers pierced into the soft flesh of Kirk’s throat, and blood began to dribble down, staining his gold command tunic.  Jim desperately tried to kick his legs in an attempt to get away from Ka’al, but the action only made the enemy tighten his grip._

_“Let him go!”_

_The entire bridge crew turned their attention to McCoy, and he was horrified when they all appeared faceless.  One by one, they began to disappear, flickering from existence as if they had been caught in a   faulty transporter beam.  Within seconds, he was alone on the bridge with Ka’al and the Captain._

_Ka’al licked his lips with his long, thin reptile’s tongue and smirked.  “Let him go, you say?”  He turned his attention back to his dangling victim.  Cocking his head to the side, he narrowed his eyes and squeezed Kirk’s neck one last time before throwing him against the screen.  Jim collapsed like a limp rag doll, gasping for breath as he curled into a ball on the floor._

_McCoy tried to run to his side, only to find his legs didn’t work anymore.  He looked down to find himself shackled to the floor with leg irons, the chains far too short to allow him to move.  Before he knew it, an unseen power pushed him onto his hands and knees, holding him there with the force of a brute.  He fought to keep himself from being flattened to the ground entirely._

_Ka’al began to move towards Kirk, his boots scraping the pristine shining floor of the bridge.  Jim’s back was to the soldier, and McCoy attempted to call out to him.  He opened his mouth to yell, and was met with silence.  No matter how hard he tried, no sound came from his lungs._

_He had no way to warn Kirk._

_Ka’al towered over the Captain and laughed.  In one fluid movement, he flipped Jim onto his back and plunged his hand into his chest.  Kirk tried to scream, gurgling blood silencing his cries as it spurted from his mouth and the wound in his torso.  Ka’al twisted his fingers counterclockwise, leaning in close enough to be splattered with blood as Jim coughed.  Jim’s gasping stopped with an abrupt gag as Ka’al tore his heart and lungs from his chest cavity.  Kirk’s body went limp, his head rolling to the side.  Lifeless eyes stared at McCoy._

_Leonard tried to scream in horror, silently sobbing at the sight of his lover dead on the floor, his organs hanging from the bloody fingers of a madman.  His body shook as soundless cries shuddered through him, his voice still nonexistent.  He strained against the manacles, the rusty metal cutting into his ankles as he desperately tried to crawl towards Jim.  Tears streamed down his face, turning to ice as they dripped onto the floor and shattered._

_Jim’s body lay still, blood trickling from the sides of his mouth.  A giant pool of the crimson liquid collected under his body.  McCoy could see into the empty chest cavity, broken ribs jutting out at all angles.  His head dropped between his shoulders and he wished Ka’al would come and finish him off.  He didn’t want to live without Kirk._

_He raised his head just in time to see Ka’al kick Jim’s lifeless body, then begin to move towards him.  He threw Kirk’s heart and lungs against the view screen, where they splattered and fell into a bloody pile on the floor.  In an instant the chains and cuffs were gone and Ka’al was picking him up by the collar.  McCoy closed his eyes and prayed that Ka’al would be swift.   From somewhere on the bridge, a soft beeping signal echoed through his ears, as he felt Ka’al’s claws dig into his stomach…_

McCoy awoke with a jolt, bolting upright and grabbing at his abdomen.  His heart raced and he felt as if he were having a heart attack.  He hadn’t had a nightmare like that since he was a teenager.  Spots flickered in front of his eyes, and his mouth became as dry as cotton.   He closed his eyes and willed his heart to calm. 

The images had been horrendous, the sight of Jim being eviscerated before his very eyes burned into his brain.  Kirk’s empty eyes had stared at him from beyond—where once they had been full of mischief and spark, they had been vacant and dull.  Every time he allowed his own eyes to close, the image haunted him.

But another emotion was seeping into his psyche.  One he had been trying to suppress since the arrived on Xentia. 

He was mad.

Mad at himself, at Ka’al…mad at Kirk. 

Angry at Jim for going down to the planet in the first place, even when he was advised by the doctor not to.  Pissed that he had gotten himself into yet another life-threatening situation. 

He had spent so much of the last three days keeping Jim alive, that he didn’t have time to let the anger that was percolating rear its ugly head.  Now, safe aboard the ship and with Jim beginning to turn the corner in his recovery, McCoy was able to finally allow his ire to surface.  Even when they had returned, Leonard had been so preoccupied with keeping Kirk alive, that he hadn’t had time to properly work on his emotional state.  His private outburst hours before had allowed him to release his sadness and frustration—and now all that was left was anger.

 McCoy was so pissed at Jim for getting injured, for putting him through a lifetime of hell in a little under three days.  He hated the way he had felt before; afraid and anxious.  He was a McCoy, dammit, and now here he had been reduced to tears.  And it was all Jim’s fault.

And then he felt so guilty for blaming Kirk.

But he couldn’t help himself.  So many years of Jim in pain, in danger--scaring the hell out of him.  He tried to tell himself that this situation was just par for the course with Jim Kirk, but these circumstances were happening more frequently than before and he didn’t know if he could take it anymore.  How could Kirk just throw himself into harm’s way and expect to be saved every damn time? 

He started to resent Jim for doing this to him.  For toying with his emotions, breaking his back—and his mind—every time he had to dig into his belly to suture bleeders or sit vigil next to him praying that the kid would wake up.

And on top of it, he had professed his love for the doctor.  They had both admitted to one another their true feelings.  And that just complicated everything even more.

_Goddammit, Jim._

_I’m so pissed._

_I can’t keep doing this._

_I won’t._

_Something’s gotta give._

_I love you too much to put up with this behavior anymore._

McCoy felt his anger rising as he tried to shake the last remnants of the dream, the incessant beeping lingering too long.  He stuck his finger in his ear and shook it, trying to dissipate the noise.

_Wait…that beep…_

_It’s…_

_…not in my head._

_It’s the comm._

Leonard looked at the bedside clock as he reached for the communicator on the night table.  Twenty-one-hundred hours.

_Nine o’clock?_

_I slept for almost six hours?_

He fumbled for the device as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.  His whole body protested when he overextended himself to grab the communicator.  He flipped it open and began to speak, his voice gravelly from disuse. 

“McCoy…”

_“Hey, Len.  The Captain’s awake, and he’s asking for you.”_

McCoy’s heart sunk.  He had wanted to be there when Jim regained consciousness.  He hated thinking about Jim waking up alone and probably in considerable pain.  He had wanted to be there, to hold his hand and encourage him to come back gently.  Even if he was pissed.

“Is he lucid?”

_“For the most part.  Somewhat groggy, but he was able to speak coherently and answer some basic questions.”_

“Is he in pain?”

_“Not anymore.  I gave ten milligrams of Morphine.  He’s responding well.”_

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief and scrubbed his hand over his face   “I’ll be right there.  Tell him I’m coming.”  McCoy knew that Kirk had a long and painful recovery ahead of him, but he seemed to be moving in the right direction.  But only seeing him in person—and talking to him—would cement it for the doctor. 

_“Sure thing, Doc.  Take your time; he’s drifting in and out from the pain meds.”_

“Thanks, Geoff.  Give me ten minutes.”  He snapped the communicator shut and flopped back onto the pillows.  He was relieved that Jim was conscious and free of discomfort.  But he knew that the discussion they were about to have would weigh heavily on them both.   The things he was about to say—about to release like a tsunami on Jim—it wouldn’t be easy.  For either of them.  But it had to be done.  If McCoy wanted to have a meaningful relationship with Kirk, he was going to have to get all this crap off his chest.  Even if it meant hurting Jim in the process.  The kid just had to know how his actions were affecting the doctor.

He rolled over to replace the communicator on the nightstand, putting unwanted pressure on a very full bladder.  Groaning, he tumbled out of bed and hit the head before leaving for Sick Bay.

He needed to see Jim.

They had a lot to discuss.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

McCoy immediately closed the door and tinted all the clear glass when he entered the SICU. 

Kirk was propped up with pillows in bed.  His left arm rested in a sling, draped across his chest, mindful of the regenerator on his abdomen.  He appeared to be sleeping, his eyes closed and head turned to the right.  The nasal cannula was gone, and McCoy loved the fact that he could now see Jim’s entire face, unobstructed.

He quietly made his way to the bedside and began checking Jim’s vitals.  Everything looked on the up and up.  He gently pressed his fingertips to Jim’s neck, to reassure himself that his heart was beating strong.  The pressure alerted Kirk, whose eyes fluttered open as he turned his head.

“Bones?” 

McCoy sat on the swiveling stool next to the bed and leaned in close.  “I’m here, Jim.”

Jim’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he managed a weak smile.  “Hi.”

The doctor’s greeting was nothing more than a grunt.  McCoy tried not to melt as Jim attempted to reach up with his right hand, only to find the IV lines too short to stretch far enough.  The doctor bent in further to allow Kirk to cup his hand around the back of his neck.  Jim’s hand was warm and soft, and McCoy couldn’t help but get chills down his spine when Kirk touched him.  The captain feebly pulled him closer until their lips touched in a soft, gentle kiss.

He wanted to be mad.  But Kirk’s lips—however dry and cracked they might be—felt so warm against his own.  He allowed himself a small moment of contentment as Jim rubbed his thumb through the hair at the nape of his neck.

After a long moment, Kirk’s hand fell limp from the doctor’s neck and McCoy straightened himself up.  Jim’s eyes, once unfocused and full of agony, were now more attentive and clearer as he looked up at him.  He could tell that Jim was under the influence of the morphine, as his pupils were dilated more than usual, but it seemed as if Kirk was well aware of his surroundings.

“You look tired, Bones.”

McCoy snorted.  “Tired?”  He sighed and shook his head.  “Try scared shitless for the past few days.  You know how much sleep I’ve had since we beamed down to that damn planet?”

Jim swallowed hard, licking his dry lips.  “Not enough, I’m guessing.”  His eyes were trying to focus on McCoy’s face as his lids blinked lethargically.  “Where’d you go?  I was worried when you weren’t here when I woke up.”

McCoy scoffed and looked away.  He didn’t want to look into those doe eyes.  Not when he was mad.  It would only make things harder. He turned his attention back to Kirk, fury burning in his stinging eyes.  “Don’t make me feel guiltier than I already do, Jim.”  His tone began to rise, and he could hear the anger begin to break through in his voice.  “I’ve spent the better part of the last few days with either my hands inside your belly or sittin’ here waiting for you to finally stop knocking on death’s door.  I’m entitled to try and get some rest, aren’t I?”

Kirk scowled slightly.  “Of course you are.  I just meant that…I was hoping you’d be here when I woke up.  I was disappointed.”

“I all but bring you back to life and you’re disappointed that I’m not at your side every damn minute?”  He knew his words stung, and probably sounded unnecessarily mean to Jim, but he couldn’t stop the deluge now that it had started.

Kirk frowned.  “I didn’t…Bones?   Why are you so angry?”

McCoy felt his cheeks flush.  He knew he needed to get all the pent-up rage out if he and Jim were ever to have a normal relationship again.  He loved the kid so much it hurt, and yet he was so pissed that he was beginning to feel irrational. 

“You’ve gotta quit trying to be the goddamn hero all the time!  One of these days I’m not gonna be able to help you and you’re gonna get yourself killed, and…”  He hesitated, then forced himself to lower his voice.  “…do you know what that would do to me?”

Kirk silently stared at McCoy with worried eyes. 

McCoy continued.  “I almost lost you, Jim!  And dammit, that makes me so angry that I want to strangle you.”

Jim shifted his weight on the mattress in an attempt to move closer to the doctor.  “You’re really mad, aren’t you?”

“Damn right, I’m mad!  Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?”  Jim recoiled at his outburst and McCoy immediately felt guilty.  But he had to release what was building up, or he’d go insane.  “You think this is some kind of game?  This shit’s been going on since the first days at the Academy.  If I had a Federation Credit for every time I patched you up, killed a hangover with a hypo or put your broken body back together with my bare hands, I’d be rich enough to retire back to Georgia!  I…”  McCoy shook his head as he let his shoulders sag.  “…I can’t keep doing this Jim.”

The two stayed quiet for a long moment. McCoy refused to look at Kirk.

“I’m sorry, Bones.  Okay?  I…”  Kirk exhaled deeply.  “…never meant to hurt you.  It’s just…” 

He finally looked towards the young Captain, and McCoy could tell that Kirk was struggling with his words, although he didn’t know if it was from the medications or emotions.  He decided to jump in and try to finish Jim’s thoughts.  “…it’s just that you tend to leap without looking, right?”

Kirk nodded.

“Well, you keep leapin’ like you do and you’re not the only one who’s liable to get hurt.  You could get someone else killed!”

Kirk answered quietly.  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I honestly thought we would run right across that atrium and out the door.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t happen that way, did it?”

Kirk rolled his head away from McCoy and stared at the far wall of the SICU.  His voice was a low whisper.  “What do you want me to say, Bones?  That I’ll never take another risk?  That I won’t put my life on the line for the ship and the crew—or for you?”

McCoy huffed.  “That would be a nice start.”

Jim sighed.  “You know I can’t do that.  I’m the Captain…it’s my duty to protect everyone.  Even if that means sacrificing myself.”

Leonard watched as Jim allowed his eyes to close for a moment.  He was beginning to feel guilt-ridden again for bombarding Kirk with all his rampant emotions, dragging the kid back into this mess when he should have been resting.  But he just couldn’t let it go.  There was still so much he needed to get off his chest.

“Just once I’d like to see you think of yourself.  A dead Captain’s no good to his vessel.”

Jim opened his eyes, and rolled his head back towards McCoy.  His tone was serious.  “Sometimes dying is the only way to ensure the safety of the ship—and everyone aboard her.”

McCoy couldn’t help but notice the grave tenor to Jim’s voice.  It unnerved him.  “You don’t always have to be the sacrificial lamb, you know.  Sometimes you just need to know when to back away from a situation—before it gets out of hand.”

Kirk didn’t reply, and instead turned his attention back to the wall.  The two men sat quietly for a long moment, the only sound in the room being the constant beep of Jim’s heart monitor.  McCoy watched his chest rise and fall evenly with each natural breath.  He was thankful the damn vent was gone. 

The doctor finally broke the silence.  “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Kirk furrowed his brows as he turned to look at the doctor.  “Why would I be mad at you?”

McCoy rolled his eyes and scoffed.  “You serious?”

“Of course.”

McCoy shook his head in disbelief.  “I dug bullets out of your guts without meds, Jim.  I tortured you.  Then I drugged you up when you begged me not to.  You should hate me…”

Kirk’s eyes softened.  “Bones, I know you did what you had to do to keep me alive.  I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to have to listen to me scream.”

McCoy was dumbfounded.  “Why are you being so forgiving about this?  You should be yelling yourself hoarse at me for all the horrible things I did!”

Jim’s pursed his lips, his cheeks beginning to flush.  “You want me to be mad? You want the truth? Fine!”  His left fist clenched in the recesses of the sling.  “When you strapped me down after I begged you not to…I hated you and Spock for it.  You knew about Tarsus—how Kodos used barbed chains—and you did it anyway!”  Kirk’s lips trembled with anger.  “And you’re right…you tortured me.  The feeling of your hands digging in my gut…I just wanted to die.  It got to the point where I couldn’t scream anymore.  I knew it wouldn’t matter because I knew you weren’t going to stop.”

McCoy closed his eyes as Jim fumed, letting everything the young Captain said sink in. 

_I was right._

_I’m a monster._

_I brutalized him._

_He’ll never forgive me._

“Look at me, Bones!”

The doctor opened his eyes and met Jim’s, seething and intense.  He tried to speak, but found himself unable to utter anything more than a pitiful moan as his body trembled.

“You left me on that cart, for that animal to come find me!  You and Spock used me as bait!  How could you?  What if he had killed me?  After everything that we said to each other…you abandoned me.”  Tears began to form in Kirk’s eyes.  “And to top it all off…you drugged me when I told you not to.  You betrayed my trust.”

McCoy let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

_Sweet Jesus._

Jim’s face contorted with pain.  “Is that what you wanted, you bastard?  What you needed to hear so we can end this bullshit?”  He groaned and screwed his eyes tightly closed. He let out a shaky breath.

McCoy just sat there, trying to process what had just come out of Kirk’s mouth.  The kid had been honest…brutally so.  But he was right.  McCoy had needed to hear every word of it. 

Even if it broke his heart.

Kirk continued, eyes still clamped shut.  “I had decided that you didn’t need to hear any of that— _ever_ \-- because I didn’t want you to get hurt.  You saved my life; I shouldn’t blame you for the pain caused by you doing it.  I chose to move past it and forget because I love you.  Nothing will ever change that, even if we cause each other both pain.”  He sighed heavily.  “If it’s what you needed to hear, so be it.  But some things are better left unsaid.”

He moved to reach forward and run his fingers through the young Captain’s hair, but stopped short.  “Jim, I…”  Kirk cracked his eyes open, allowing for a single tear to fall from his left eye.  He stared at McCoy, waiting.  “…thank you.”

_That’s just what I needed._

_I wanted you to yell at me._

_To call me names._

_To tell me how much it hurt._

“You want something for the pain?”  McCoy felt awful for making Jim rile himself up and cause discomfort.  “I promise if you say ‘no’ I won’t give you anything against your wishes.”  Jim nodded lethargically.  McCoy keyed in the combination to the drug lock-up and retrieved a ready-filled syringe.  He injected it directly into the port on the IV catheter and watched as Kirk relaxed. 

Kirk peered up at him from his medicated haze.  “Are we okay now?”

McCoy sighed and leaned over, kissing Jim on the forehead.  “Better than okay.  I’m sorry, Jim.  For—everything.”

“The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you, Bones.  I know that you worked your ass off trying to save me, and that it must have been doubly hard since we’ve taken a new step in our relationship.”  Kirk swallowed hard, wincing with his dry throat.  The doctor took notice and grabbed a glass of water from the bedside.  He held the straw to Jim’s lips and waited for him to drink.  Kirk’s head fell back onto the pillows as he finished.  “I don’t hate you.  Please don’t feel guilty for something you had to do.”

McCoy’s shoulders sagged.  “But I do feel guilty, darlin’.  Your screams, the way your eyes rolled back in your head as you bled out in my arms in that cart, all the pain I caused you…they were the worst moments of my life.”  He shook his head and looked away.  “You shouldn’t love me, kid.  Not after what I did to you.”

Kirk reached over his body with his right hand and opened his palm.  McCoy placed his own hand in Jim’s.  “It’s in the past, Bones.  I’m alive because of you.  Doctors cause pain sometimes in order to save lives.  It’s just the way things work.”  He sighed heavily.  “You’re going to be okay…we both will.”

McCoy snorted a small laugh.  “Dammit, Jim.  I’m the one that’s supposed to be doing all the comfortin’.  Pretty soon you’ll be trying to take over my job as CMO.”

Kirk smirked.  “Nah…I’m way too good at being Captain.”

McCoy leaned in close and brought his lips to Kirk’s.  Almost instantly, he could tell that Jim’s breathing pattern had changed and pulled back to find his Captain fast asleep.  He smiled softly.  He released Jim’s hand and got up, pushing the rolling stool away from him.  He quickly grabbed the more comfortable chair with a back and dragged it bedside, as close as he could to Jim.  Sitting once again, sinking down into the seat, he cozied himself up against the side of the chair and reached out for Kirk’s hand, flopped down over his other arm in the sling.  McCoy gently clutched Kirk’s hand and watched as the young man rested.

His eyes began to droop and as he dozed, a warm smile crossed his lips.

_We’re okay, Jim._

_Thank you._

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_A/N:  Special shout-outs to my beta QuietRaine and my good friend Saber Wing.  Your input for these last couple chapters made them so much better.  Damn those Starfleet officers and their stupid emotions!_


	15. Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Fifteen

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Fifteen

 

**Thirty-Six Hours Later**

                “Bones, let me outta here, wouldja?”

Leonard McCoy crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his patient.  “No way, Jim.  You’ve still got regenerators implanted in your shoulder and you’re on a pretty potent cocktail of meds.”

Kirk pleaded.  “Please?  I promise I’ll be good.”

“Bein’ good’s got nothing to do with it.  I let you out, and you’re liable to collapse in your quarters and hit your head or something.  Besides, you can’t even get out of bed to take a piss without assistance.”

Jim pouted.  “Well, at least give me some better food.  This ‘ _barf_ ’ diet you have me on is awful.”

McCoy rolled his eyes.  “It’s called the ‘BRAT Diet’, Jim, and you’re on it because you were having a hard time not tossin’ your cookies with all the pain meds in your system.”  He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small wrapped piece of candy.  He tossed it at Kirk.  “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”  He leaned in gave the young Captain a quick peck on the cheek. 

Jim’s eyes lit up as he unwrapped the morsel.  “My favorite!  Bones, you really do love me.” 

“I promised I’d find some of that shit, didn’t I?”  He swallowed down a gag as Jim savored the neon-green candy.  “How you can stomach that awful taste is beyond me.”

Kirk stuck his tongue out, now stained bright green, at the doctor.  “You just don’t appreciate the finer things in life, Bones.”

“You know, the only reason you’re in such a good mood right now is those pain meds that are runnin’ into you.  Just wait until I wean you off those IV drugs, and we’ll see how chipper you are then.”

Kirk contemplated McCoy’s threat and lost some of the sparkle in his eyes.  “I guess you’re right.  You’re just looking out for me.”

McCoy smirked.  “You’re damn right.  Now get some rest. Computer, lights thirty percent.”  The doctor lowered the head on the biobed as Jim settled down under the blankets. McCoy tightened the strap on the sling supporting Kirk’s injured arm. “You want a top off on your pain reliever?”

Jim shook his head.  “I’m good, thanks.”  He let his eyes droop closed, a content expression on his face.  McCoy was almost out the door when the comm panel beeped.  Kirk’s eyes shot open.

_Goddammit, what now?_

McCoy reluctantly answered when the ID showed the signal coming from the bridge.  “This had better be good.”

_“Doctor, Admiral Pike would like to speak with the Captain.”_

McCoy scowled, looking back at Kirk who had already raised the head of the bed again.  “Uhura, he really needs to rest.  Can’t this wait?”

Jim’s voice echoed through the dim room before the Communications Officer could respond.  “It’s alright, Bones.  Patch him through to the doctor’s PADD, Lieutenant.”

The Doctor pursed his lips.  “I want you to sleep, dammit!  Pike can wait.  You’re never gonna get out of here if you don’t get some rest!”

Kirk’s eyes softened.  “I promise I’ll keep it short.”  He beckoned to McCoy with his finger.  McCoy scoffed and moved towards Jim, leaning down and allowing the young Captain to embrace him.  The Doctor nuzzled his chin into Kirk’s shoulder. 

“I’ll give you some privacy.”   He handed Kirk his PADD.  “Five minutes, Jim.  I’ll be counting down.” 

Kirk smiled.  “I know you will.”

McCoy exited the room, turning to look at Kirk through the window as he closed the door behind him.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_“You gave us all quite a scare, Jim.  This is just one of too many close calls.”_

Kirk smiled softly at the image of Christopher Pike glowing on the PADD.  “You’re starting to sound like my CMO, Sir.”

_“Rightfully so.  I’m beginning to see a disturbing pattern with you.”_

Jim sighed.  “I’m fine, Admiral.  Doctor McCoy is confident that I’ll be released from Sick Bay soon.  I’ll be back on active duty in no time.”

_“Glad to hear that you’ll be back in your chair soon, but that doesn’t address my concern.  This is the second major injury you’ve sustained in less than three months.”_

“It wasn’t as bad as you think, Admiral.”

_“Oh really?  Then why does the report from McCoy say that you were clinically dead for two minutes?”_

Kirk averted his eyes from the screen for a moment, trying to come up with an answer.  “I…”

_“This needs to stop, James.  One of these days you’re not going to be saved.”_

Kirk huffed.  “So I’ve been told.” 

_“McCoy’s a smart man.  You should listen to him more often.”_

Jim looked away from the PADD and at the window to his room.  McCoy stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, watching him.  Realizing he had been caught, he busied himself on a computer terminal out of sight.  Jim smiled softly before replying.  “How’d you-“

_“He cares about you, kid.  We all do.”_

“Thank you, Sir.”  Kirk sighed, fatigue starting to set in.

_“I want to praise you and your First Officer for not getting involved in the military uprising on Xentia.”_

Kirk grinned cheekily.  “Well, we were kind of busy, Sir.”  Pike scowled on the screen, causing Jim to switch gears.  “But I understand where  you’re coming from.  We realized too late that we were in a bad situation.”

_“The intelligence services have been reprimanded for not supplying you with proper information.  You should have had more at your disposal, and for that I’m sorry.”_

“The info techs shouldn’t be blamed.  From what we were able to glean from Luuk-ti before his death, the Xentians weren’t too proud of the fact that their society had an element like the Graz’ Kuul-ai.  They wanted to keep their existence a secret from the outside world because they were ashamed.”  Kirk exhaled deeply.  “I think they were in denial anyway.  The Shaman truly believed they weren’t a real threat.  Any information gathered from them would have reflected that.”

Pike shook his head and frowned.  _“Still, I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for getting you into that mess.  If the intelligence had been accurate, I would have never allowed you to go in the first place.”_

“What’s done is done, Admiral.  Besides, now we _have_ the proper intelligence.”  Kirk flashed a cocky smile, causing Pike to roll his eyes.  “Plus a wonderful new passenger aboard the ship who is eager to learn.” 

_“Mak’ai, isn’t it?”_ Kirk nodded.  _“I’ve spoken to the other Admirals about what to do about her.”_

Kirk sat up slightly, wincing at the sharp pain in his shoulder that accompanied the movement.  Concerned, he furrowed his brows. “You’re not going to send her back, are you Admiral?”

Pike offered a warm smile.  _“Absolutely not.  She was essential in your survival and will be commended.  I’ve talked with the Academy and they are eager to have her join up at the new semester.  Admiral Barnett is excited to welcome a new species into our ranks.”_

Jim sighed with relief.  “Thank you, Admiral.  You won’t be disappointed by her.  She’ll be a great asset to Starfleet.”

_“Don’t mention it, Jim.  Any chance we get to learn about new races is something special.”_ Pike’s expression hardened.  _“Now, let’s get down to the business at hand.  I know McCoy’s probably itching for this conversation to be over so you can rest.”_

Kirk chuckled slightly and glanced up at the glowering doctor.  “He’s staring me down like a hawk as we speak.”  McCoy raised his wrist and pointed at his chronometer, then made a slashing motion across his neck. 

_“Like I said, he cares, Jim.  Now, the Admiralty has come to a decision about what do with Ka’al.  Starfleet has officially decided not to interfere with the military coup.  However…”_ Pike stiffened in his seat.  _“…they are prepared to go after Ka’al for attempted murder of Starfleet officers, as well as destruction of your shuttlecraft and the attack on the Enterprise.”_ A small, barely noticeable smirk crossed Pike’s lips.  _“If the coup happens to be dissolved if Ka’al should be…removed from power…so be it.”_

Kirk tried to suppress a huge grin.  “I take it you’ll need someone to head the mission, Admiral?”  Pike nodded.  “I think in light of recent situations, my crew and I are the perfect choices…”  He watched as McCoy entered the room, an immediate flushed and angry look on his face.  “…we have innate knowledge of the terrain, the people and most importantly, Ka’al.”

McCoy’s mouth hung open in shock.  He clenched his fists.  As he opened his mouth—undoubtedly to scream bloody murder at Kirk—Jim shot him a stern glance and shushed him with a covert wave of his hand underneath the PADD.  McCoy bit down hard on his lower lip and fumed in silence.

_“I agree that you’re the best choice for the reconnaissance and execution of the mission.  I’ll be in touch with logistics in the next few weeks.  In the meantime, dock with Starbase Nine and take on supplies.  Don’t move towards Xentia until ordered to.  We don’t know what kind of sensors Ka’al possesses and we wouldn’t want to tip him off.”_

Kirk nodded in agreement.  “Understood, Admiral.”

_“Take care of yourself, kid.  I want you to be in top shape when you go back.”_

“Yes, Sir.”  Kirk disconnected the comm signal and McCoy blew up.

“I just put your damn body back together and you’re going back?”  McCoy’s face was red with fury, his hands clenched into fists.  “Are you insane?”

Kirk began to speak, but the doctor pointed a shaking finger at him, a warning to shut up.  “You don’t get to talk right now, Jim!  Didn’t we just have a blow-out about this type of behavior?  In one ear and out the other, huh, kid?”

Jim looked at McCoy with pleading eyes.  “It’s not like that, Bones.  You saw what Ka’al did.  I just can’t stand by and do nothing.”

“Yes you can, dammit!  Or have you already forgotten that you had three bullets in you four days ago?”

Kirk shook his head and looked down at his lap.  “That’s not what I’m talking about.  You just don’t understand.”

“Enlighten me then.”  McCoy sat down on the rolling stool next to Jim.

Kirk’s ears began to turn red and his cheeks flushed with anger.  “They attacked us, Bones!  They shot down a Federation vessel and fired at our ship— _my ship!_ We’re familiar with the situation, and it makes perfect sense that we’re the guys for the job.”

McCoy’s voice was hushed.  “Sounds like you just want revenge.”

Kirk looked away from him.  “…maybe.  But I just can’t sit back and let innocent people wither away under the iron fist of a madman.  I have to go.”

“No you don’t!  Jesus, Jim, didn’t our conversation yesterday mean anything you?  That damn reckless streak is rearing its ugly head again!”  McCoy tried to keep from losing his cool.  He lowered his voice and forced himself to take a cleansing breath.  “This behavior is killing me, Jim.  The idea of you going back to that planet—where you almost died—and throwing yourself willingly into the fight against a coup…I don’t ever want to be faced with the prospect of living without you again.  And I’m afraid that if you go back, I’ll lose you.”

Kirk reached his hand out to McCoy, who grasped his fingers tightly.  “I don’t ever want it to happen either, Bones.  I know that you’re scared.  I am too.  But…”  The young Captain sighed heavily.  “…remember what I said yesterday?  About being Captain?  I just can’t allow Ka’al to have Xentia.  Especially after all that Mak’ai did for us—and me.  She deserves a home to go back to, and so do all the people of her planet. They won’t ever get that chance if we don’t intervene.”

“I understand all that, I really do. No one deserves to live under a tyrant like Ka’al.  But why does it have to be you, Jim?  I think you’ve given enough of your blood for Xentia.  You don’t always have to be the one runnin’ in phasers-blazin’.”

Kirk squeezed the doctor’s hand. “Maybe not, but this time it’s our only option and you know it.  If we wait for Starfleet to put together a tactical team and train them on Xentian culture and Ka’al, he will have had more time to commit more atrocities.  He’ll kill more innocent people and damage the culture beyond repair.”

McCoy closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing Kirk’s words to sink in.  When he opened them again, he was met with Jim’s own sparkling blue orbs.  “Dammit, Jim.  Why do you have to be so right all the time?”

Kirk smiled.  “I’m only right when it matters, Bones.  God knows I make plenty of shitty decisions.  But this one means more to just me or our crew.  It’s the fate of an entire culture at stake.”

McCoy leaned close and kissed Kirk tenderly, but quickly.  He lingered near his face to whisper into his ear.  “You’re a good man, Jim.  I’m proud of you.”  He sat back.  “That being said, it doesn’t mean I have to like this decision.”

“I know you don’t want me to be in danger.  And I promise I’ll be careful.  I know you might not believe it, but contrary to popular belief, I don’t really like being hurt.”  He offered a sheepish grin.

McCoy snorted.  “You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

Kirk rubbed his thumb over the doctor’s hand.  “It’ll be alright, Bones.  We’ll help Mak’ai’s people and be off on our next adventure.”

“Hopefully it’ll be to an uninhabited planet that we can observe from the safety of the ship.  Preferably from a distance.”

Kirk chuckled.  “Now where’s the fun in that?”

McCoy shook his finger at Kirk as he stood.  “Don’t you start, dammit.  Now get some rest.”  He lowered the head of the bed again.  He adjusted the pillow behind the Captain as he got comfortable.  Kirk sighed and let his eyes close. 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

**The Next Day**

Kirk sat up in the biobed, scowling at the PADD in his hands.  McCoy had been very clear when he had said no work in Sick Bay, so the Captain was only allowed to watch holovids on the device, and not go over any reports or official business.  Usually he enjoyed old cop dramas from Earth, but as he watched the heroes race down the freeways on their motorcycles, all he could think of was how badly he wanted to be in his own quarters, in his own bed…and in his own shower.  Not that sponge baths from Bones weren’t fun, but there was no replacement for hot water flowing over his body from an actual showerhead.

The door hissing open gave him a glimmer of hope that he would have someone to talk to—or at least something to do for a few minutes.

“Good morning, Captain Kirk.  Doctor McCoy said you were well enough for visitors.”  Mak’ai walked into the room, her skin radiating a green glow.  “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

Kirk smiled and tossed the PADD aside.  “Of course not.  I was getting sick of watching these vintage shows anyway.”

“Vintage?  I’m not very familiar with Terran entertainment.”

Kirk chuckled as she sat next to him on a small chair.  “McCoy will tell you that I have eclectic tastes when it comes to holovids.  When I was a kid, I came across a collection of television shows from the nineteen-seventies on Earth.  That means they’re almost three-hundred years old.  One particular program about police officers on motorcycles was my favorite.  Whenever I get sick or just need some down time, I always gravitate towards them.”

“Perhaps someday you’ll show them to me?  I’m so excited to learn as much as I can about humans and their culture.”

“I’d be happy to share my love of old stuff with you.  You’d be amazed at my collection.   McCoy says it’s out of control, but I like it.”  Kirk settled back into the bed.  “I’m glad you came to visit.  I’ve really wanted to thank you for everything you did back on your home world.  It was very brave of you to risk your own life to save ours.”

Mak’ai offered a humble smile.  “Not all Xentians are like Ka’al.  When I saw you get hit, I instantly knew what I was meant to do—what I _had_ to do. I needed to help you and your friends, even if it meant my life.”

“The Academy will be lucky to have you as a cadet.  That is what you want, right?”

Mak’ai’s eyes sparkled at the news.  “More than anything, Captain.  Does this mean your Admirals have definitely decided to grant me asylum?”

“Yes, and call me Jim.  I think you’ve earned that right, remember?”

Mak’ai bowed her head.  “I can never thank you for everything you and your Federation have done for me, _Jim._   I promise that I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will.  Bones tells me that you want to continue your medical education, and even one day be a CMO on a starship.  Those are pretty lofty goals.  But I know you can do it.  Just don’t try and take McCoy’s job.  He’s pretty protective of his Sick Bay—and me.”

Mak’ai giggled.  “So I’ve seen.  Even though I have only known you both for a less than a week, I can tell that you are very much in love and respect each other a great deal.  The Enterprise is lucky to have you both.”

“Thank you, Mak’ai.  I get on his nerves a lot, but we couldn’t live without each other, professionally or personally.  And we’re finally beginning to realize that.  Too bad it took me almost kicking the bucket to figure it out.”

Mak’ai looked puzzled.  “’Kicking the bucket’?  I’m assuming that is an allusion to you almost dying?”

Kirk nodded.  “Yes.  You’ll get used to Standard slang at the Academy.  Or just from being around me…”  He winked. 

Mak’ai beamed.  “I can’t wait to see Starfleet Academy.  Or Earth, for that matter.  Is it really as grand as I imagine it to be?”

“It’s unlike anything I saw on Xentia, I can tell you that much.  I won’t say it’ll be easy, and I’m sure you’ll face your fair share of challenges, but the knowledge and relationships you will ultimately leave with will shape who you’ll become in your Starfleet career.  Which I hope will be long and full of adventure.”  Kirk’s demeanor softened as his voice took on a more somber tone.  “Unfortunately, I can’t offer asylum to anyone else on your planet, I’m sorry.  Technically, no one on Xentia knows you came with us.”

Mak’ai nodded sympathetically.  “I understand, Jim.  I know the three of you took a huge risk in even allowing me on your ship, let alone letting me stay.  I hope to return to Xentia one day and help release my people from Ka’al’s awful grip.”

Kirk’s eyes sparkled with mischief.  “Actually…”  Mak’ai cocked her head in anticipation.  “…Admiral Pike is working on mission mechanics right now with Starfleet brass.  We’re going to return soon and apprehend Ka’al for attacking us and the Enterprise.”

Mak’ai shook her head in disbelief.  “Forgive me, but didn’t Starfleet say they would not become involved with the military coup?”

“Technically…yes.  But we’re going on our own business.  Ka’al must be held responsible for the attempted attack on our landing party before Luuk-ti’s death and his actions against my shuttlecraft and ship.  Him being removed from power and the coup hopefully being dissolved would just be an after effect of the mission.”  Kirk smirked.

“I offer my services then.”

“No way, Mak’ai.  You’d be in too much danger if you went back.  Ka’al wouldn’t hesitate to make an example out of you if given the chance.”

Mak’ai’s expression became stern.  “With all due respect, Jim, I’m your best chance of taking Ka’al down.  It’s my planet, and I know it better than anyone in Starfleet ever could, you included.  I have many friends that hated Ka’al as much as I do, and I’d be willing to bet that even as we speak, they are planning resistance movements and gathering forces.  They will fight to the death for our culture and people.”  She leaned forward and took Kirk’s hand in her own.  “You need me.”

Kirk nodded.  “I see where you’re coming from, and you’re right.  But ultimately it’ll be the decision of the Admiralty.  But I can already tell that you and I are very much alike and you’re not going to back down without a fight.”  They both chuckled. “I’ll see what kinds of strings I can pull with Pike.  In the meantime, you should focus on getting up to date with Academy basics and policies so you’re ready when we return to Earth. I’ll have Lieutenant Uhura get you all the necessary files.”

Mak’ai smiled warmly.  “I can never thank you enough for all that you and the Federation have done and will continue to do for not only me, but my people back on Xentia as well.  I…”  She hesitated shyly.  “…would very much like to kiss you in a show of thanks.”

“No offense, Mak’ai, but I would think a kiss from you might hurt a bit.” 

Mak’ai chuckled.  “Actually, you are more correct than you realize, Captain.”  Kirk glared mockingly at her for the use of his formal title.  “I mean, _Jim._   In our culture, a ‘kiss’ involves biting of the lips and mouth, more often than not resulting in bleeding.  In your current medical state, I will refrain from such actions.  I believe Doctor McCoy would be very upset with me should I draw blood.”

Kirk rolled his eyes.  “You got that right.”

Mak’ai leaned over and gently laid her lips, which she had curled over her teeth, on Kirk’s forehead.  She whispered softly.  “Thank you for everything.  I can never repay you.”  She backed away and once again sat in the chair.

“I think we’re more than even.”  He got a naughty glint in his eyes again.  “Say, you don’t think you could help a guy out, could you?”

Mak’ai looked at him quizzically.  “What exactly do you mean?”

Kirk moved his body to look around her and into Sick Bay.  He was obviously scanning the area for someone.  “How’s about you help me get out of here?  I think I’m ready.”

Mak’ai scolded him with a wag of her long, clawed finger.  “I believe Doctor McCoy would, as you would say on Earth, ‘have my head’.  I may have not been around him long, but I already know not to cross him.  I’m sorry, Jim, but you’ll just have to abide by his recovery timetable.

Kirk pouted.  “I knew you’d be on his side.  Everyone is…”

Mak’ai stood and straightened her shirt hem.  “Don’t be discouraged.  I’m confident that you’ll be back in your quarters soon.”  She showed her own mischievous side.  “I’ll try and sneak some contraband in for you, alright?  Maybe Lieutenant Uhura will help me.  But if I get caught, I’m blaming you.”

Kirk’s eyes lit up.  “I like strawberry ice cream…”


	16. Caught in the Crossfire: Chapter Sixteen

Caught in the Crossfire:  Chapter Sixteen

**The Next Day**

“Quit bitching and get in the hover chair.  I’m not telling you again.”

Kirk scowled as he swung his legs off the side of the biobed.  “I’m fine to walk, Bones.  Really.”  He pushed himself off and stood.  His legs immediately buckled under his weight and McCoy dashed to his side just in time to catch him. 

The doctor grabbed him under the arms and lifted him back onto the biobed.  “I knew this was a bad idea.  Why I let you talk me into this is beyond me.”  He tried to raise Jim’s legs back onto the bed, but Kirk pushed him away. 

“Come on, Bones.  You said yourself that I could be back in my quarters.  You’re not going to go back on your word, are you?”

McCoy glared at his Captain.  “That was before you proved to me that you can’t even hold your own weight, Jim!”

Kirk slid off the bed again, steadying himself with his good arm.  His legs shook slightly, but held his mass.  “See?  I just needed to get my bearings.  I can stand just fine.”

“Then let go of the bed.”

Kirk appeared a bit fearful.  “N-no…I’m good like this.”

McCoy pursed his lips and tried to push Jim back to the bed.  “That’s what I thought.  Back under the covers, darlin’.”

Kirk pressed back with his feeble strength.  “Please, Bones!  You’ve gotta let me out!  I’ll sit in the chair like you asked!  I’ll stay in my bed back in my cabin, I’ll…”

McCoy huffed and eased him into the chair.  “Alright, alright!  Jesus, if there’s one thing I can’t take it’s your incessant whining.”  He settled the younger man and covered his legs with a blanket.  He muttered under his breath.  “I’m the stupidest man in the world…”

Kirk smirked.  “No you’re not, Bones.  You just can’t resist my charm.”

“Shut up, dammit.  Or I’m putting you in isolation.”  McCoy flicked the back of Kirk’s ear with his finger as he began to push the chair out of the private room and into the main Med Bay.  The few crewmembers there offered their Captain warm smiles and acknowledging nods, moving out the way to make room for the two men.

McCoy and his charge left Sick Bay and were greeted with relatively empty corridors.  Kirk looked up and down the passageway.  “Good call on leaving mid-shift.  The halls are pretty deserted.” 

The doctor guided the chair through the halls towards the turbolift.  The doors opened and he pushed Kirk inside.  As the doors closed, he leaned down and quickly kissed Jim on the forehead, placing his hand on the Captain’s shoulder.  Kirk reached up curled his fingers around McCoy’s.  The hum of the turbolift stopped as they reached Deck five.  McCoy pushed the chair out of the lift and immediately rounded the corner towards Kirk’s door.

As they approached, Kirk sighed.  “Home, sweet home.  Man, that door never looked so good.”  McCoy keyed in his medical override code and the door slid open.  The scent of Kirk’s light aftershave perfumed the air.  The doctor guided the chair into the cabin and towards the bedroom.  Kirk immediately protested.

“I want to sit on the couch, Bones.”  He tried to pull himself over to the sofa.  “Just for a little while.”

McCoy scoffed.  “Forget it, Jim.  You said you’d stay in bed, and that’s where you’re going.”  He pushed Kirk into the bedroom and next to the bed.  He pulled back the covers and assisted Kirk onto the mattress.  Jim was stiff-limbed and pouting. 

“At least let me take a shower first.  I’m aching like a son of a bitch and I stink.”

McCoy shook his head.  “You’re in pain because you don’t have meds constantly infusing into your system.  That’s one of the reasons I wanted you in Sick Bay one more day.”

Jim grimaced as he rolled his healing shoulder within the sling.  “Please, Bones?  Just a quick one?”

McCoy rolled his eyes.  “There you go with the whining again.  You really know how to annoy the shit out of me, don’t you?”

Kirk’s eyes sparkled.  “I’ve had a lot of practice.  Now are you going to let me or not?”

McCoy relented.  “Five minutes, Jim.”  He pushed the chair to the bathroom door and helped Kirk rise.  The young man’s legs were shaky, and he needed to steady himself on the door frame.  He shuffled into the small bathroom and sat on the closed lid of the commode.

“I could really use a shave while I’m in here.”  He eyed McCoy hopefully and reached for his razor.  His hands trembled, and the instrument tumbled out of his weak fingers.  Kirk swore under his breath in annoyance.  He grabbed for the razor again, this time gripping it tighter.  His hands quaked as he tried to wet it under the tap.

McCoy shook his head and yanked it out of Jim’s hands.  “You’re gonna slice your jugular open with those shakin’ hands.  Let me do it.”  He held the blade under the tap, shaking excess water off onto a towel on the counter.  “And when did you start using a steel razor, you little bastard?  You gave me hell for using one back at the Academy.”

Kirk smirked.  “I guess I realized that sometimes you do know best.”  He closed his eyes and tipped his head back as McCoy rubbed a small amount of shaving foam on his cheeks and chin.

“Hold still.”  The doctor began to methodically draw the razor across Kirk’s skin, starting on his throat.  Gently, he removed the weeks’ worth of stubble, pausing after each stroke to clean the blade in the sink basin.  Kirk was quiet, tilting his head to allow McCoy access to his chin.  Over and over, Leonard moved the blade until Jim’s face was as smooth as silk.  McCoy dampened a washcloth and wiped it over Kirk’s skin, removing the last remnants of the shaving cream.

“Thanks, Bones.  That feels a hundred times better.”  He reached up with his right arm and pulled McCoy down into a long kiss.

The doctor reciprocated, deepening the kiss, angling his head to allow his face to fit perfectly with Kirk’s.  They stayed in their lip lock for a long moment, before Jim pulled back.  His eyes were closed, a look of utter contentment on his face.  He kept his eyes shut as he finally spoke, breathless.  “Did I tell you today that I loved you?”

McCoy smiled softly.  “Yes, actually.  Three times.”  He leaned back in for one more quick kiss.  “But say it again, anyway.”

Kirk cracked his eyes open, revealing the shining blue contained within.  “I love you.”  He smiled, allowing one more moment of closeness between them before pulling back.  “Help me get this sling off, wouldja?”  Jim toed off his slippers. 

McCoy undid the clasp on the strap, allowing Kirk’s arm to fall limply into his lap.  He slid the fabric out from under Jim’s elbow.  “You need help with your shirt?”

Kirk nodded, his expression showing signs of growing pain.  “Yeah, I can’t raise my arm high enough on my own.”

McCoy gently raised the lower hem of Kirk’s tee-shirt.  He slowly guided each of his arms out of the sleeves, mindful of the healing shoulder wound.  The internal regenerators were gone, and he had undergone two external regen sessions, but the scar was still tender and the inner workings of the shoulder still needed extensive therapy.  Once both limbs were free, he lifted the shirt over Jim’s head, mussing up the blonde hair there. The doctor tossed the garment into the laundry bin in the corner. “Need help with your pants, too?”

Kirk shook his head.  “Nah, I think I can manage that.”  He wiggled his rear out of the waistband and kicked off the loose fitting trousers.  The fell into a heap on the tiles and McCoy picked them up, also placing them in the hamper.  Jim looked up at him quizzically.  “You gonna stay and watch?”  Kirk raised his eyebrows mischievously. 

McCoy snorted.  “Asshole.  Go ahead; try it on your own.”  He reached into the shower stall and started the water flow.  “I’ll be right outside.  Five minutes.”

Kirk nodded lethargically and watched McCoy close the door behind him.  He sat for a moment, listening to the water surging out of the showerhead.  He wriggled out of his boxers and gingerly stood, holding on to the sink to get his bearings.  His body ached deep into his core.  Jim hoped the warm water would soothe his throbbing muscles.  As he stepped into the stall, his entire torso erupted in searing agony, and he briefly contemplated calling for McCoy.  Instead, he stifled a moan, a sharp hiss escaping his lips instead.

“You okay, Jim?”  McCoy’s concerned voice was muffled by the closed door.

Kirk steadied himself and took a cleansing breath.  “I’m fine.  Just stiff.”  He hoped he wasn’t making things worse.  The last thing he needed was to begin bleeding internally again or jostle something that was still healing.

Because then he’d never hear the end of it.

Gripping the small ceramic soap holder attached to the wall tiles, already slippery with water droplets, he used it as a handle as he positioned himself under the cascading water.  He closed his eyes and groaned as the heat began to permeate through his skin and into his body.  A small smile graced his lips as he melted into the warmth, tipping his head back to allow the water to careen over his face.

He stood for a moment, relishing the near-scalding water rushing over his battered body. He opened his eyes and looked down at his abdomen, seeing the pink scars from multiple surgeries for the first time without regenerators on them.  He drew his fingers over the puckered skin, wincing slightly as the new nerve endings contained within electrified, as they were still not used to contact.

Kirk soaped up a washcloth hanging from a hook and proceeded to wash himself, taking care not to irritate his shoulder wound or other scars.  When he was finished, he hung the cloth back up, noticing that fatigue was beginning to set in.  His legs were beginning to feel weak.

Again, he resisted calling for McCoy.  Jim wanted to do this for himself.  He hated being an invalid.

He raised his right hand slowly, pulling it back through his hair.  He could feel the week’s grime and dirt on the strands.  Reaching for the bottle of shampoo, Jim nestled it in his limp left hand and squeezed feebly, a small portion of the gel depositing into the palm of his right hand.

Replacing the bottle on the ledge, he methodically rubbed the cleanser into his hair, massaging his scalp as best he could with only the use of one hand.  He tilted his head back, the water washing away the suds in his short locks.  As he brought his head back upright, Kirk could feel the blood rushing back, and felt light-headed.  He desperately tried to clutch at the ledge of the shower, but the force of gravity, albeit artificial, was beginning to win the battle.  His knees began to buckle as he called out for McCoy.

The doctor was in the small bathroom in a heartbeat, wrenching the shower door open and grabbing Jim around the torso.  Water fell over both of them, soaking McCoy’s uniform.  He gently guided Kirk onto the floor of the shower. 

“I should have never let you try this by yourself!”  He reached up and turned the water off.  Never taking his hand off of Jim, he grabbed a towel from the bar with his other one and quickly wrapped it around Kirk’s naked body.  “Are you alright?”

Jim nodded shakily.  “It came on all of a sudden.  I felt like I was going to faint.”

McCoy scowled.  “You’re going back to Medical.  You’re too weak.”  He grabbed Kirk under the arms and lifted him into a standing position.  Wrapping his arm around the Captain’s waist, he steered him out of the bathroom and towards the bed, where he plopped down like a sack of potatoes. 

Kirk waved him off.  “I’m fine, Bones.  Just tired.” He pulled the towel up around his body as he started to shiver.

“Like hell you are!  You almost collapsed in there!”  McCoy grabbed his Tricorder and waved it over Kirk.  Alarms blared.  “You’re getting dehydrated.  You need IV fluids.  And you’re heart rate is all over the place.  I should have never given into your whining.  You’re getting your ass back to Sick Bay now.”

Kirk looked at McCoy with pleading eyes.  “Please don’t take me back.  I’ll drink more water, or something.  Just let me stay here.”

McCoy glowered.  “No, Jim!  I already made one bad decision by letting you out in the first place.  I’m not going to jeopardize your health because you’re a baby.”

Jim’s face turned stern.  “Don’t make me pull rank on you.  I’m staying here.”

McCoy wasn’t going to back down.  “How soon you forget that in times of medical crisis, your rank doesn’t mean jack shit!”  He sat down next to Jim, who leaned over and laid his head on the doctor’s shoulder.  “And don’t think you can change my mind by being all lovey-dovey, dammit.”

Kirk sighed.  “Isn’t there something you can do here?  I just…I can’t take any more Sick Bay.  All the crew members looking at me, the whispers.”

McCoy’s shoulders slumped.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jim.  Way to lay it on thick.  Fine…you win.  On one condition.”

“What?”

The doctor put his arm around Kirk.  “You get IV therapy here in your quarters.  Fluids, electrolytes and some pain meds.  And if your vitals go south, I’m not hesitatin’ to drag you back.”

Jim didn’t even whine.  “Agreed.”  He rubbed his hand over his body in an attempt to warm himself.  “Thanks, Bones.”

McCoy grunted and activated his communicator.  “Nurse Leonhart?  Make up two bags of saline and electrolytes and a hypo of Morphine, four milligrams.  Have them delivered to the Captain’s quarters along with an IV kit stat.”

_“Right away, Doctor.  Is everything alright?”_

“Just peachy.”  He disconnected the signal and stood up. 

“A hypo?  Really?”

McCoy scolded him with a wag of his finger.  “Don’t start, Jim.  You play by my rules or you go back.”

Jim relented.  “Alright.”  He shivered on the bed, his toes beginning to turn blue.  “I’m really cold, Bones.”

McCoy went back into the bathroom and grabbed another towel.  He guided Jim into a standing position and held on as he stripped the wet towel away and began to dry Kirk’s trembling body.  When Kirk was sufficiently dry, he sat him down again and went to his dresser, grabbing a clean pair of boxers, a tee shirt and some sleep pants.  He helped Jim into the clothes and gently positioned him against a mound of pillows.  Kirk grimaced as the doctor manipulated him on the bed, thankful when he was finally not moving anymore.

“You’re soaked, Bones.”

McCoy looked down at his sopping uniform.  “Well, that’s what happens when I have to rescue your ass from the shower.”  He began to strip the blue medical tunic off, uncovering the black undershirt he wore underneath.  That, too, was wet, along with his pants.

“Take something from my closet.  There should be something that’ll fit you.” 

McCoy contemplated the option.  He couldn’t just sit around in wet clothing, since there was no way he was leaving Kirk alone for even a millisecond to get clothes from his cabin.  He agreed to the offer. 

“Thanks, Jim.”  He opened the drawers again, finding a pair of blue cotton shorts and a tee shirt.  He pulled them on quickly, venturing into the bathroom for a quick moment to hang his wet uniform pieces over the shower stall door.

He waited for the supplies, sitting on the end of the bed and stroking Jim’s foot through the blankets.  Kirk spoke, his voice showing his growing exhaustion.  “Thanks for everything, Bones.  I know this isn’t the most ideal of situations.”

“You’re welcome, kid.  I know that Sick Bay was gettin’ to you.”

The door chimed, indicating that the medications and supplies had arrived.  McCoy excused himself to answer the door, slightly embarrassed by the fact that he was wearing the Captain’s clothes.  He returned moments later, toting a Med Kit and two plastic bags filled with clear liquid.

Kirk watched him through heavy lids as he opened up the sterile kit and pulled out IV tubing and a rather large needle and introducer.  He didn’t even have the energy to protest.  The doctor cleansed Jim’s right forearm with alcohol and tied a tourniquet, a plump blue vein popping up from Kirk’s flesh within seconds.

“Little pinch, darlin’.”  McCoy pressed the needle into Kirk’s skin, causing Jim to jump.

“That was not a little pinch, you liar!”  His objection was sluggish and he could feel his strength leaving him with every passing moment. 

“Almost done, Jim.”  McCoy kept the needle steady as he threaded thin tubing inside and into Kirk’s vein.  Satisfied that the line was in place, he removed the introducer, tiny droplets of Jim’s blood dripping from the end.  He hooked up the tubing hanging from the bottom of the saline package and hung it on a collapsible pole from the Med Kit.  “This should help, kid.”

Kirk snuggled down under the blankets, his right arm dangling off the side of the bed.  “I’m still cold, Bones.”

McCoy discarded the trash from the procedure and gently moved Kirk’s arm across his chest, mindful of the IV.  “I’ll get you another blanket.”  He dug through the small linen closet in the wall, covering Jim with a blue fleece emblazoned with the Starfleet logo.  “Better?”

Jim nodded, heavy lids closing over his azure eyes.  “Thanks, Bones.”

The doctor readied the hypospray filled with a low dose of pain medications and gently pressed it into Jim’s neck.  The younger man hardly protested.  Then McCoy tucked the blanket around Kirk tightly.  “Get some rest, darlin’.  I’ll be in the living room if you need me.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Kirk cracked his eyes open.  “Stay with me, Bones.  Please?”

“And where do you expect me to sleep?”

Kirk patted the bed next to him.  “I promise I won’t try anything…”

McCoy scoffed.  “You need your rest, Jim.  You’ll sleep better on your own.”

Jim pleaded.  “C’mon, Bones.  It’ll help me relax if you’re here.”

_Dammit, Jim.  You sound so pitiful._

_And I want to lay with you…so badly._

_But I don’t want to hurt you._

_I want you to get better._

_So we can share a bed for real._

McCoy relented.  “Alright, Jim.  If it’s what you want.”

“It is.”

The doctor rounded the bed and pulled back the covers, mentally thankful that Captain’s privilege allowed for a queen-sized bed.  He settled down next to Kirk, happy that the clothes he had lifted from Jim’s wardrobe were soft and comfortable.  “Computer, lights ten percent.”

The lighting dimmed, the faint glow of Jim’s bedside clock illuminating the younger man’s face.  Kirk’s breathing was steady in the darkness.  His voice, weak and quiet, broke the silence.

“Hold me, Bones?”

McCoy sighed in the dimness.  He moved closer to Kirk, sitting up against a pillow wedged on the headboard.  He gently pulled Jim closer, the Captain nuzzling close into McCoy’s chest. 

_Not the most comfortable way to sleep._

_Oh well, if it’ll help him…_

“You alright, darlin’?”  McCoy tightened his arms slightly around the warm body next to him.

Jim’s response was slurred and exhausted.  “…’M good.  Love you…Bones…”

McCoy leaned over and kissed Jim’s forehead before closing his eyes.

“I love you too, kid.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy rolled over, his arm falling onto an empty space on the bed.  Instantly, his eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, scanning the room for Kirk.  The IV pole was bare, no trace of the saline bag.  The bed linens were shoved aside, and Jim’s pillow had a small dent in it, indicating that the younger man had, in fact, been there recently.

“Jim?”  His voice was panicked.  He swung his legs over the side of the mattress and jumped out, frantically looking at the floor at the foot of the bed, making sure Kirk wasn’t laying unconscious or something.  “Jim, where are you?”

The bathroom door slid open, producing a more refreshed-looking Kirk, holding an empty saline bag at his side.  His hair was tousled from the night’s sleep, his shirt wrinkled.  He offered a small smile.  “Calm down, Bones.  I was just peeing.  This stuff goes right through you.”  He held up the IV bag.

McCoy exhaled the breath he had been holding.  “You scared the piss out of me, dammit!  I thought you…”  He bounded towards Jim and pulled him into his arms.

Kirk nuzzled his chin into McCoy’s neck.  “I wouldn’t go anywhere; I know you’d hunt me down and stab me with hypos if I did.”  He pulled back and pecked the doctor on the cheek, then looked down at the port in his arm.  “I did contemplate taking this thing out though, it’s bugging me.”

McCoy led Jim to the bed and sat him down.  “Glad you didn’t, kid.  You could’ve torn a vein or something. Plus, I would have strangled you for trying.”  He scanned Jim with the Tricorder.  “Your vitals look good, Jim.  Seems like the IV therapy helped, as did a good night’s sleep.  Let’s get that thing out.”

He grabbed a small alcohol wipe from the Med Kit at the bedside.  Carefully removing the adhesive square that held the line in place, he cleansed Kirk’s arm and disconnected the empty saline bag before gently pulling the thin tubing out.  He held pressure on the small bleeding hole with a piece of gauze.  Kirk winced at the compression.

“Hey, not so hard!”  He clapped his hand over McCoy’s.

“Stop complaining, you infant.”  He slid his hand out from under Kirk’s.  “Keep holding that for minute or so, otherwise you’ll bleed all over your pretty Captain’s carpet.”  He tossed the empty IV package in the trash, along with the discarded tubing.  “You need to eat.  I’m going to go down to the mess and bring you back something.  Think you can be good for ten minutes?”

Kirk’s eyes glittered.  “Who do you think I am?  How much trouble could I possibly get into in ten minutes?”

McCoy scoffed, mouth hanging open.  “You really need me to answer that?”

Jim smiled sheepishly.  “Alright, alright.  I’ll sit on the couch and watch holos.”

McCoy nodded curtly.  “You see that you do, dammit.  If I come back and you’re on the floor, we’re gonna have words.”  He walked towards the bathroom to change back into his now dry clothes as Jim slowly made his way to his small living area.  McCoy heard the tell-tale signs of children’s cartoons moments later. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled his uniform top over his head. 

He left the bedroom and came face to face with his Captain; snuggled under the same blanket McCoy had covered him with the previous night, watching some seizure-inducing, brightly-colored show.  “That shit’ll give you brain cancer.”

“No it won’t, Bones.  You just don’t like it because you’re old.”  Kirk stuck his tongue out.

McCoy rolled his eyes.  “I’m not that much older than you, you little prick.  But it’s obvious that I’m way more mature.”  He leaned in and kissed Jim’s cheek.  “You’re eating everything I bring back, understood?  Otherwise you know where you’ll end up.”

Kirk never took his eyes off the screen.  “Yeah, yeah, Sick Bay.  Got it, Bones.”

McCoy shook his head and grunted as he keyed the door open.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy was actually surprised at just how much Kirk had eaten.  He had managed to put away an entire bowl of oatmeal, half a banana, two pieces of toast with jam and a glass of milk.  He was relieved that Jim’s appetite had returned, and now the real trick was making sure it stayed down.  Forty-five minutes in, and things were looking promising. 

The two sat cuddled on Kirk’s couch, having moved on from cartoons to a program about warp mechanics.  McCoy stifled a yawn.  “Can’t we watch something that won’t put me to sleep?”

Kirk chuckled.  “Just because you don’t like going to engineering, doesn’t mean you still shouldn’t know how warp cores work.”

“I know how they work just fine, thank you very much.  Still don’t care, though.  As long as it’s keepin’ our engine runnin’ and our gravity on, I’m content to let Scotty and his gang do what they have to do without any interference from me.”

Kirk sat up and switched off the screen.  “Don’t you have to be in Sick Bay soon?”

McCoy moved with him, placing his arm around Jim’s shoulders as he leaned their two bodies back onto the plush cushions.  “Nope.  Ran into M’Benga in the mess and he told me to take the day off.”

Kirk smiled broadly.  “Then I know what we can do today.  I want to go to the bridge.”

McCoy shook his head.  “No way, darlin’.  Rest means rest—in your cabin.”

Jim’s voice was pleading.  “Please, Bones?  I need to thank everyone for their hard work during the whole Xentia debacle.  Plus, I think it would be good for morale if they saw that I was well on the road to recovery.”  He raised his eyebrows hopefully.  “C’mon, just for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten minutes, and you come right back and take a nap, got it?”

Kirk saluted him.  “Affirmative, Doctor.”

“Good God, you’re so annoying.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Kirk strode onto the bridge, confident as ever.  His sling was gone, but not without protest from his CMO.  He had wanted to appear as little hurt as possible, and had told McCoy the device would hinder his ability to look the part.  Wearing his black off-duty uniform, the entire bridge crew snapped to attention as he was announced.

“Keptin on ze bridge!”  Chekov’s smile was genuine and beaming.  “It’s good to see you, Sir.”

Kirk nodded his acknowledgement.  “Thank you, Ensign.  It’s good to be back.”

McCoy cleared his throat.  “Not back, Jim.  Just visiting.”

Spock rose out of the Captain’s chair, motioning for Kirk to take his seat.  Much to McCoy’s surprise, Kirk refused.  “You’re still acting Captain for a few more days, Spock.  The chair’s yours.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.  “As you wish, Captain.  I trust you are feeling better?”

“Much, thank you.”  Kirk circled the bridge, stopping in front of the view screen.  “I just stopped by to thank everyone for their exemplary work during the unpleasantness of the last week.  Your quick thinking and dedication saved all our lives, and you should all be proud of what you’ve accomplished.  In the weeks ahead, you’ll be called upon once again to move into action and I’m confident that you’ll all act admirably.”  Kirk took a deep breath, steadying himself on the Navigator’s station.  “Ka’al was and still is a very dangerous adversary.  He attacked our ship, shot down one of our shuttles and tried to kill the landing party.  He will be held accountable for his acts against Starfleet.  Let’s just hope we can remove the bastard from power quick enough before he kills more innocent Xentians.  Speaking of, there’s one aboard the ship.  Her name is Mak’ai and I expect every member of the crew to extend all their hospitality to her.  She was instrumental in our escape.”

The entire bridge crew erupted in applause, Kirk holding up his hand to stifle the actions.  “Not necessary, guys.  Just keep up the good work and I’ll be back in a few days.”

He walked past Sulu, who extended his hand for him to shake. The Captain weakly obliged.  Kirk offered a small smile, beginning to show signs of fatigue.  McCoy recognized that Jim was getting exhausted.  The doctor sidled up beside the Captain and covertly grabbed him by the bicep, leading him towards the turbolift.  Spock stopped them briefly.

“I wish to come to your cabin after my shift concludes.”

Kirk smirked.  “Checking up on me, Spock? Didn’t think you cared that much.”

Spock pursed his lips.  “I was attempting to show compassion, Captain.  If you do not wish for my company, I will not take offense.”

“I’d love a visitor, Spock.  Really.”  McCoy steered him towards the lift.  Kirk turned once more as the doors slid open.  “Thanks again, everyone.  I owe my life to each and every one of you.”  He turned to look McCoy deep in the eyes, smiling softly. 

The doors shut and McCoy pulled Jim into a passionate kiss.

 


	17. Caught in the Crossfire:  Epilogue

Caught in the Crossfire:  Epilogue

                “Come on in, Spock.”

The Vulcan stood in the corridor, hands clasped tightly behind his back.  “Thank you, Captain.”

“We’re off duty, Spock.  You can call me ‘Jim’.”  Spock scowled as Kirk ushered his First Officer into his cabin and motioned for him to sit on the couch.  “So, how was the bridge today?  Anything interesting happen?”

Spock sat stoically on the edge of the cushions, back straight, while Kirk eased himself down onto the loveseat across from him, cradling his slung arm against his chest.  “If you are attempting to gain information pertaining to the daily occurrences of the ship, I am afraid you will be displeased.  Doctor McCoy informed me not to divulge information of that nature to you.”

Kirk sighed.  “I figured he’d get to you before you came by.” 

“He is looking out for you, Captain.  He does not want to cause you undue stress.” 

Kirk nodded.  “I know, I’m just going out of my mind with boredom.”

“Would you like to play chess?  I would be more than willing to begin a match.”

Kirk’s eyes lit up.  “Really?  I mean, don’t you have somewhere to be?  Or _someone_ to be with?”

“If you are referring to Lieutenant Uhura, she has already committed to spending her evening with our guest, Mak’ai.  As for myself, I had no activities planned.  If you would like to play, I have ample time to spare.”

Kirk smirked slightly.  “Well, she’s a good lady, Spock.  Hang on to her tight.”

“I intend to.”

Kirk smiled briefly, then allowed his expression to soften.  “Look, I…”  He tapped his fingers nervously on his lap.  “…I know that you know about me and Bones.”  Spock quirked an eyebrow.  “He told me.  And, I hope that you’ll…keep it between us for the time being.  It might be hard for the crew to understand right now.  Besides, we’re still trying to figure it out for ourselves.”

“No one, including myself, should take any interest in your relationship beyond your mutual happiness.  It is not my place to judge, nor would I.  Furthermore, I would never divulge any personal information about you or your personal life without your permission.”

Kirk nodded thankfully.  “I know, Spock.  Thanks.”

“There is no need to offer acknowledgments.  What one does in their own time, whether they are an Ensign or Captain, should not be of any concern to other members of the crew.”

Kirk’s expression turned contemplative.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

Kirk shifted his weight on the couch and sat forward.  “On Xentia, while doctor McCoy was, well…you know, working on me?  Was he…okay?”

Spock thought on his answer for a moment before replying.  “If you are referring to his emotional state at the time of your initial treatment, he performed above and beyond his duties.  He had very little to work with and still managed to save your life on multiple occasions.”

Kirk frowned with frustration.  “That’s not what I meant.  I know he saved me, I’m right here.”  He tapped his chest and exhaled deeply.  “What I meant was, was he _okay?_ ”

“I am afraid I do not understand your meaning.  Your inflection of the word ‘okay’ seems to indicate another significance, but I am not certain I comprehend what you are trying to convey.”

Kirk huffed exasperatedly.  “Was he afraid?”

“I could ascertain from his body language that he was fearful as he worked, but nonetheless toiled feverishly to stabilize you.  While he has the tendency to let his emotions illogically bubble over and explode, he did an exemplary job of containing them.  No one else could have saved your life, Captain.  I will admit that I am still unsure why you felt the need to enquire about his emotional state.”

Kirk sat back into the plush cushions.  “Call it morbid curiosity, I guess.”

“The need for humans to explore emotions on this level is very perplexing.”

Kirk chuckled.  “Tell me about it.  I guess I owe you some ‘thank you's’ as well.”

“It was only logical that I offered my assistance to Doctor McCoy, as there were no other medical professionals available on the surface of the planet.”

Kirk nodded. “You make it seem so routine.  If it hadn’t have been for you or Mak’ai, Doctor McCoy would have had a much bigger battle to fight.  Just take the thanks, Spock.”

“Of course, Captain.  You are welcome.”

Kirk smiled, chewing on his bottom lip.  “Say, one more thing about Xentia.  Remember when you said you were going to have to record everything in your log?  You know, about me being illogical and running out into that atrium after being advised not to?”

“I have decided that the injuries you sustained shall serve as a better reminder not to act in such an impulsive manner again.  Much more so than information logged in the computer.  Recording a log would only be redundant.”

Kirk offered a sheepish grin.  “Thanks, I think.  Still up for a chess match?”  Spock nodded, and Kirk rose to get his chess set, and was stopped by the door chime.  “I’m just a popular guy tonight.”

He opened the door, finding McCoy, a small backpack slung over his shoulder.  Spock stood, straightening his uniform top.  “I shall take my leave, Captain.  Perhaps we can engage in a chess match another time.  Enjoy your evening.”

The two men watched the First Officer leave, the door hissing shut behind him.  Kirk eyed McCoy suspiciously.  “What’s with the knapsack?  Sleeping over?” 

“You’ll see.”  McCoy moved in close, dumping the bag on the couch. He stopped in front of Kirk and adjusted the sling around the younger man’s neck.  “You need to keep this tighter, Jim.  Your shoulder won’t heal if you don’t.”

Kirk pouted.  “And here I thought you were going to sweep me off my feet or something.”

“I’m tryin’ to take care of you, dammit.  I mean it—don’t let this thing get loose or I’ll hog tie it on you.”  He wrapped his arms loosely around Kirk’s waist, pulling him close.  The two men rested their foreheads against one another’s until Kirk closed the gap, kissing his doctor gently.  When they finally broke, Jim tugged McCoy down onto the couch. 

“C’mon, show me what’s in the bag.  And it had better not be sex toys.  I don’t think I’m recovered enough for such energetic activities.”

McCoy rolled his eyes.  “You’re such a juvenile, you know that?”  He reached for the backpack and unzipped it.  Jim’s eyes lit up as he produced a handful of holo chips, each one containing one of the Captain’s favorite movies from Earth.  “I need to keep you relatively still while that arm heals.  ‘Figured this would do the trick.”  He smiled wryly as he pulled out two bottles of beer.

Jim’s mouth hung open.  “Where’d you get that?”

“I have my secret suppliers, just like you do.”  He handed Kirk a frosted bottle.

“You’re letting me have a beer?  Even with the pain meds?”

McCoy grunted.  “Just don’t tell M’Benga, got it?  Besides, I think we both deserve a cold one after this last week, don’t you agree?”

Kirk sat back into the plush couch as he twisted the cap off.  He took a long draught, tipping his head back as he swallowed, an expression of sheer joy on his face.  “I think we’re gonna need more beer if we want to decompress, Bones.”

“Let’s just start with one, alright, darlin’?  The last thing you need right now is a hangover.”

Kirk chuckled and took another swig.  “Wanna replicate some popcorn?”

McCoy stood and went to the replicator, and within seconds, returned with a steaming bowl of kernels, complete with butter and salt.  “What do you say we get comfortable and fry our brains with meaningless violence and explosions?”

Kirk beamed.  “You know me too well, Bones.  Start it up.”

Hours later, well into the third film, Jim was curled into McCoy’s body, sleeping soundly.  The doctor switched the holo-player off and basked in the silence of the cabin.  He thought back to the awful week they had just survived.  Too many times had Jim scared the shit out of him, made him cry out with frustration and anger.  McCoy knew that the war with Ka’al was just beginning, and that Kirk would once again be cast into the fray.  Even though it frightened him beyond belief, he felt somewhat at ease knowing that if Jim needed help, at least he would be the one to offer assistance.  The battle would be intense and probably not without casualties, but deep down he knew it had to be fought.

But for right now, millions of miles away from Xentia, he could concentrate on Jim.

On them.

Kirk stirred slightly on the couch, nuzzling his cheek into McCoy’s chest.  He could feel the warm tickle of every exhale from Jim’s lungs as they absorbed into his shirt.  McCoy smiled in the darkness, the eerie glow of the blackness of space illuminating the room.  He slid down against the cushions of the couch, allowing for his back to stretch out.  He wrapped his arms around Jim and laid his cheek on the Captain’s hair. 

“I love you, darlin’.”

Allowing his eyes to close, McCoy’s dreams were peaceful as he slept.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_Author’s notes:_

_So, here we are.  This one is in the books.  Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited and alerted.  I’m so glad that you all enjoyed my work.  Look for a sequel (yes, you read that right!) soon._

_A huge shout out to my beta, QuietRaine.  We met through a love of Final Fantasy, and our friendship has blossomed so much in the past several years. I just love it.  I love that we share a mutual love for Trek, our kids, and the nerdy things in life.  Thank you for all your hard work in helping me make this fic a success.  Love you, lady!_

_Another shout out to my friends Saber Wing and TwinLance.  Both of you offered very valuable opinions and advice on how to make our heroes and their damn emotions—or lack thereof—behave in this story.  Thanks a million, gals!_

_Off to the next adventure…see you soon._

_\--Bebedora_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set approximately 5 months after the first Reboot movie. I hope everyone enjoys it. Thanks in advance for reading! And mad props to my awesome beta QuietRaine for the title. You are a sorceress with words. 
> 
> \--Bebedora


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